My Brother's Body
by DoomsdayDevices
Summary: Post-Tanker Fic. "We stole his frozen body from some organization. Kind of a hassle though..." - The story of how a Snake faked his death.
1. A Small Miracle, When You Think About It

**_My first continuous fanfiction, the events of which take place after the Tanker Mission in Metal Gear Solid 2, a period of time that has always intrigued me as a fan. And thus, from that curiosity, this fic was born. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. _**

**_I do not own Metal Gear Solid.....but damn...._**

* * *

**My Brother's Body**

"SNNNAKKKKKEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!"

Hal's voice was absorbed by the vociferous roar of inky black sea, which tossed him about recklessly like a bucking bronco. Rain pelted him, and he squinted in the darkness, trying to imagine that every bobbing piece of the tanker in the distance was his friend. By this time, Hal feared for his own life.

"SNNNNAKKKEE!!!!!"

No good. He couldn't even hear himself. All he could do was watch in horror as Metal Gear Ray trampled over the tanker, sending harsh gusts of wind and spray in his direction. Soon all the lights in the tanker windows would be gone, and he wouldn't be able to glimpse the ocean surface. A harsh wind careered the little boat, and Hal tugged at it to keep it from capsizing. The wind howled in his ears, and the rain left huge droplets on his glasses, diminishing his field of vision. He was about to slowly moved one hand to rub them, when a harsh wind blew them straight off his face and away into the ocean, and made the boat career to the side again.

"ARGHH..." he whimpered hopelessly, his vision cloudier than it had been before. All he could hear was that loud roaring, all he could feel was the harsh cold that was petrifying his body, and all he could see was a few golden lights in the distance, a dark mass moving above them, that opened its mouth and cried like a dinosaur. The vibrations from the roar caused his insides to quiver.

"Uuhhh...Uuhhh!"

Tears of fear began to form in his eyes. Snake was dead, and it was his fault. Now, he would die too.

Another harsh gust hit the boat, and it span again. Otacon held on for dear life. He knew the end was nigh, but despite knowing the futility, he cried out again.

"SNNNNAAKKKKKEEE!!!!! ARE YOU THERE?"

He could hear himself now, if only briefly, in this cocoon of wind. And he realised why. The mass had gone. In fact, he could have sworn that it was overhead. For a moment, it was quieter, and the water was calmer. Otacon took this brief spout of tranquillity to gather his composure; he breathed deeply, trying to ward off the sick feeling deep in his stomach. Looking out across the river, he could see only a few rows of lights; the tanker was almost completely immersed in water, and he was horrified to learn he had drifted away from it. He wiped his eyes. Then he saw it.

"OOOTTACC..."

He heard what he thought was a deep gravelly scream. It could easily have been another module of the tanker sinking to the riverbed, but he clung on his hope. As he attempted to look out again into the darkness, he felt his boat tip to the side, and he tumbled as a splash of water washed over his face.

"AHhh", he screamed, "I'm sorry! I'm going to die. Snnnakkkkeee"

Otacon closed his eyes, and screamed at the top of his voice.

"What....the....hell...."

Otacon's heart lifted when we heard the rasping voice, and he sat up with a jolt. Snake's arms were inside the boat, pulling it to the side.

"PULL ME IN!!"

Otacon grabbed his arms, and fell backwards as Snake tumbled into the boat.

"What the hell Otacon!" Snake's voice was thin and rough, "I've been following the damn boat for about ten minutes. I was shouting for you like crazy...!"

Snake began to cough wildly, spilling his guts onto the bottom of the boat.

"Get this thing out here!" he wheezed, before having another coughing fit.

"I gotcha, Snake" Otacon said, wiping saltwater out of his eyes, before starting up the motor.

* * *

It was stone silence when they returned to the apartment. For a moment, neither of them knew what to do, and then Otacon started booting up the computers. He dug his spare glasses out of a drawer, and opened up several windows in the browser, sifting through information, re-reading the hints that were supposedly from "E.E.", and tracing back the I.P. addresses. Nothing. He begun working himself into a frenzy, searching the hard drives for tracers and Trojans, matching the data that he had retrieved from the Pentagon. His pupils were beginning to dilate as he stared menacingly at the screen, until he heard a loud _ping, _and Mei Ling's face appeared in the periphery of his vision.

"Hal! Will you answer your damn phone I've been trying to reach you! What happened?? Is Snake okay?"

"He's fine, Mei Ling."

Otacon could hear the whirring of the shower in the bathroom.

"It's all over the news, Otacon. People are saying they saw a monster on that Tanker? Was it really...._it?!_"

Hal put his head in his hands, and ran his fingers through his wet hair. As he rubbed the moisture from his brow, he could smell the thick heavy aroma of oil on his fingers.

"Yeah...it was, Mei Ling...but, oh god, I've got a horrible feeling that we've been had".

She frowned, leaning closer to her screen so that her head appeared twice the size in its window.

"What do you mean?"

Otacon shook his head.

"Not here, not now. This isn't a safe line. Just...keep looking into it for me, Mei..."

Mei Ling could hear the pleading tones in her friend's voice. Her concern was coupled with even more anxiety as she looked desperately at Otacon's melancholy face, hoping he would give her some clue as to what was going on. A hand sign. _Anything._

He didn't move.

"Okay Hal...I'm on it..."

He nodded, grateful that she had resisted the temptation to ask more questions.

"I'm just going to go check on Snake..."

He got up and headed towards the kitchen, listening to the tapping sounds of Mei Ling's typing that filtered through the speakers of his computer, and feeling suddenly woozy. The day's trials had begun to weigh down upon him.

He walked in, and saw Snake, in a T-shirt and jeans, trying to sew a cut in his arm together as he leant against the kitchen table. As he entered, Snake looked up, and gave him a long hard look.

"W-we screwed up, didn't we?" chattered Hal, suddenly realising how cold he was.

"Yeah," Snake grunted, breaking the thread with his teeth, "We did."

Snake walked straight past him and into the living room, sitting at one of the chairs in front of the computer. As he bent he grimaced in pain – his whole body was aching from that swim.

"Snake!" cried Mei Ling, suddenly noticing he had arrived, "Are you okay?"

He nodded gravely, appearing deep in thought. Mei Ling thought it best to stay quiet for a moment.

"I think we're in serious trouble this time Mei," said Snake quietly, when he finally spoke, "Forget what happened with the SSCEN...This time....I don't think there's going to be a way out..."

Mei Ling stared at him, and she could see the tiredness in his eyes, and the worry in his expression.

"Snake I..."

"Where are you?" he asked, suddenly.

Mei Ling gave him a sceptical look.

"I'm in D.C..."

"And how long will it take you to get here?"

She thought for a moment.

"If I drive over, and leave now...My guess is...four hours, maybe?"

"Good. I need to talk to you in person. What time is now?"

Mei Ling's eyes drifted to the bottom right hand corner of her screen.

"It's 2:31 AM. I can be in Manhattan by dawn."

"Sounds like a plan," Snake grunted.

Mei Ling's window closed, just as Otacon was shuffling into the room with a towel draped over his shoulders and two cups swaying gently in his hands. Mei Ling's window popped open again.

"Oh and Snake...Get some rest, you look terrible."

"Gee, thanks..."

Otacon placed a hot mug in front of his partner, before sitting down and cradling his own. Mei Ling smiled.

"_It is far better to lie to yourself than it is to lie to one's friends."_

Snake sighed in familiarity.

"Who said that one?"

Mei Ling grinned.

"No one. I just made it up."

Mei Ling's window closed once again.

"I knew it..." muttered Hal into his mug, and took a long sip. He was just about to offer Snake a little help patching himself up, when he noticed the number of unread emails in his inbox increase from zero to one.

Clicking on it, he frowned.

"Anonymous sender.....I don't think I should open it..."

Snake peered over his shoulder.

"What's the subject?"

Hal squinted at the screen.

"Well, it says 'RE: Sinking Ships', but...."

"Open it. We're in the shits as it is. I'm surprised we haven't had half the FBI raid this building already..."

"Oh please, Snake," berated Otacon, as he double clicked the email, "As if I would let them get any kind of hint on our..."

Snake noticed that his friend had stopped.

"What is it?"

"It's a link..."

"To what?"

Hal shook his head.

"CNN..."

There was a short pause. Snake leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes, wanting just to sleep for a moment.

"Click it..." he murmured, and his friend complied. Hal stared at the screen, his face blank and deathly white. Quietly and slowly, he read the headline aloud.

"_**Hero of Shadow Moses Sinks Marine Tanker..."**_

Snake eyes shot open, and he jerked forward.

"What?! They can't have any evidence for this?!"

Otacon shook his head, and turned the monitor to face his friend.

"I'm sorry, Snake. They do..."

There on the screen, Snake was surprised to see his own dark eyes glaring back at him, from where he had been hours later. On the deck of the tanker, Olga Gurlukovich's unconscious body laying close behind him.

He stared in disbelief, and suddenly remembered.

_**The Cypher.**_

"Oh, crap........."

* * *

**Oh crap indeed.....**

**Thanks for reading.**

:)


	2. Max and Oliver

**A huge thank you to Prisonerksc2-303/XxTheSorrowxX/AngelSnake/MasterMillerLITE for the reviews, and a different but just as meaningful thank you to all those who read my work. All criticism is greatly appreciated.**

**Just to clarify, this is written in UK English. All "S"s instead of "Z"s and all extra random "U"s are sincerely apologised for ( - Oh look I've done it already XD), however, I'm far too stubborn to change it. **

**On that note, please read the story, and feel free to enjoy it, if you must. **

* * *

"_You're drownin__g in time, brother…"_

Snake forced himself to open his eyes –the silence was becoming beyond intolerable. The insomnia was deep set, and despite his determination to replenish his energy, there was no end to the constant echoes of Ocelot's words. So much had transpired in those few moments, and at the time, the heat of the moment, adrenaline pumping in the ears, it was easier for him to focus on his objective: survival. Now, in the dark and damp room he called his own, with nothing to hear or see, his mind was open plan. The events of the night rushed by in constant motion, replaying in his head. Ocelot had stolen Metal Gear Ray; that could be logical enough, if he could figure out the reasons.

But Snake could've sworn he'd heard his brother's voice, _Liquid's voice_, booming from Ocelot's lips. Snake was pretty damn sure that there was no way that was possible, but still…

"Urghhh…..so I'm insane then…." Snake growled to himself, and he sat up, groaning as he stretched the DIY stitches all over his body. He let out a deep hum to clear his throat, then as the air passed through him, realised beyond all doubt that he needed a cigarette. Otacon didn't usually approve of him smoking in the apartment, but Snake didn't have the energy to care.

_Nerdboy'll have to lump it, _he thought, as he began digging in the pockets of the various clothes strewn over the end of the bed, struggling to see in the dim light beam cast by the slightly-open door.

"_Steal? No, no. I'm taking it back…"_

What had he meant by that?

Snake found his lighter and case, slowly lighting up and inhaling the smooth smoke.

He made sure he took the longest possible time savouring it, letting the ash float down onto the floorboards.

"You okay in there, Snake?"

Otacon's silhouette appeared in the doorway, casting a shadow across Snake's face. Otacon's nostrils twitched and he shook his head in disdain.

"I'm fine just....a bit shaky..."

Otacon chuckled.

"I'd be worried if you weren't..."

Snake made a low noise in the back of his throat, and nodded.

"So how are we doing?"

Hal pushed his glasses up his nose, and let out a deep sigh.

"Philanthropy is taking a beating. I think we've gone from being on the UN fringe to being environmental terrorists. I hoped posting your pictures of the Marines' Ray would counter-act what had been said, but regardless, Metal Gear or no Metal Gear everyone still thinks we sunk it. And it makes sense, because sinking that Tanker would've been a nice way to get rid of it..."

"We're only a small group. Wouldn't people think that was a bit extreme for us?"

Otacon shook his head.

"Maybe a bit zealous for Philanthropy, but definitely not for you..."

Snake let out a loud sigh. That had _not_ been what he wanted to hear.

"Besides," Otacon added, "This is America..."

Even in his current frame of mind, Snake managed a smile.

"And what will happen to _us_...?"

He looked up at his friend, and saw the dejected expression on his face. Hal was crushed.

"I'm trying not to think about it...."

He walked over, and sat beside Snake on the bed.

"Listen, Snake..." he began, looking at the floor to avoid eye contact, "I'm sorry about...this...It was my fault. I realise now that...I shouldn't have been more suspicious of that tip. I tried to trace it, but I didn't think it needed that much investigation, seeing as the government files I hacked into confirmed..."

"It's okay, Otacon."

Snake draped his arm over his friend's shoulder and patted him on the back.

"Don't beat yourself up about it..."

Hal managed a half-hearted smile; he felt a little less guilty, but looking at his friend in such a bad way made him uneasy. He was about to apologise again, but stopped as he felt a little flurry of ash powder his foot.

"Ureghhh...." Hal mumbled.

As he began to wipe it off, Snake got up and wandered into the kitchen to find a place for his cigarette butt. Otacon, still tutting, followed on behind him.

"By the way Snake, Mei Ling phoned about half an hour ago. She's making good time, should be here soon."

Snake made a noise in the pretence of listening, and looked through the kitchen door to see his ash tray sitting on an end table. He went to retrieve it, and as he did so, saw something that stopped him for a moment.

_His coat. Hung up by the door._

What was so important about that?

"_Traitorous dog...."_

Of course. Ocelot's double whammy that killed Gurlukovich and the Marine Commander. Snake suddenly remembered something, or rather, he remembered that he was supposed to remember something. On the tanker last night, he'd told himself to take a mental note. What was it?

And with a sudden flash, it came to him.

"Hey Otacon," he growled, wandering back into the kitchen, ashtray in hand, "What's the la-li-lu-le-lo?"

Hal cocked an eyebrow, and leaned against the table.

"It's the five sounds omitted from the Japanese alphabet. Traditionally, where westerner's use those syllables, a Japanese person would substitute them for 'ra-ri-ru-re-ro."

"Oh..." Snake knitted his eyebrows, "...Anything else?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Something Dolph said….before Ocelot killed him…"

Otacon's face twisted in thought.

"I'll get right on it."

A loud_ knock_ sounded at the door.

"I'll give you one guess as to who that is..." Otacon mused, before going to the wooden panel door and looking through the spyhole, to make sure it was her. He pulled the door to, and a very anxious looking Mei Ling stumble through carrying a small gym bag. Before he had time to breathe, she'd chucked her bag onto the couch and thrown her arms around the startled-looking man in the doorway.

"Are you okay, Hal?" she asked, releasing him from the bear hug.

"I-I'm fine really, Mei, just…a bit worried. Well, a lot worried actually…"

Otacon tried not to look so haggard, but couldn't even manage a smile, let alone words of optimism.

"Where's Snake?" she asked, at a loss to what to say to comfort her friend.

"In here, Mei ling," Snake called from the kitchen, and after a moment, Mei Ling appeared by his side with her hand on his shoulder.

"How you holding up?"

Snake put his arm around her and gave her a half-hug, then shook his head. Understanding the gesture, Mei Ling patted his chest comfortingly, before turning around to face the men.

"Okay guys…I think it's time we had a conference", Mei Ling announced, and the two men sat down at the kitchen table, and she sat on it due to lack of another chair.

"I think I've got a good grasp of what's happened here. Plain and simple, we've been framed."

"By that dog Ocelot…" Snake said vehemently.

"Yup," Otacon said quietly, "We were caught out. Hook, line and sinker. And now we're in huge trouble if we don't act fast."

Snake gave the scientist a glare.

"_Act fast? _What action can we take? There's no way of proving I didn't do it! The way I see it, we're screwed no matter what. I thought this meeting was so we could say our final goodbyes before I got locked up. It's only me they've got photos of. I'm the only one who's implicated here…"

"Snake!" Mei Ling scolded, "Do you have to be so dramatic…?"

"She's right, Snake," began Otacon, "Think about it. They've got photographic evidence that you were on that tanker. That tanker also sunk to the bottom of the ocean – there's no reason you didn't too."

Mei Ling turned to look at them both.

"Well, actually, there are two reasons, Hal. The first being that, if Snake were planning to blow up the tanker, he'd have made sure he had a way out _before_ he blew it up, unless it was some kind of suicide mission. The second is…"

"That during the dives to find the Marines' bodies," Snake interrupted, "They won't find mine…"

"Precisely."

"Well then I was right. I am screwed."

Mei Ling shook her head, and sighed.

"Come on guys," Otacon said pleadingly, "Let's not lose hope right away…"

Mei Ling shrugged, before leaning forward to rub Snake's shoulder. He gave her a quick smile, then looked down again.

"I'll put on a pot of coffee…" Otacon said, and got up to go to the counter.

"WAIT!" Mei Ling cried, a shocked look stricken across her face. Otacon jumped. Snake, slowly looked up to her.

"What is it?"

Mei Ling jumped up and began pacing.

"There…._might…._be a way…"

Otacon looked at her.

"What is it?" he repeated, still a little shocked from her loud outburst. Snake turned around in his chair and sat backwards, resting his arms on its back.

"I don't like the sound of that _might_…" Snake grumbled, still eager to hear what she had to say.

Mei Ling suddenly looked very nervous, and very uncertain. She chewed her lip.

"When I was young," she began, "I knew two boys called Max and Oliver…"

"This better be going somewhere…" Snake muttered.

"It is!" she insisted, "Anyways, Max and Oliver were cousins, and known infamously for being almost completely identical. Oliver was in my grade at school, but Max was a year older, and very intelligent. Being an inspiring sleuth as a child, I took it upon myself to notice whenever Oliver got Max to sit his exams for him. It was commonplace for that to happen. All the kids knew they did it of course, but they were never caught. So one summer, Oliver was meant to sit his semester finals, and Max was supposedly going on a camping trip. Oliver saved up the price of that trip, and then some, and offered it to Max on the condition that they switch places for the summer…"

"Like in that film about the little girls…."

"Yeah, sort of. Anyways, a few days into their wonderful plan, the so-called 'Oliver' was mugged by a gang of thugs, and consequently stabbed to death. 'Max', or the real Oliver, who was off in the middle of the Canadian wilderness and completely cut-off, didn't learn of this until he returned home. What he found when he returned was his own name on a gravestone, and his cousin buried under it…"

"They buried the wrong boy?"

"Yeah. Messy business. Town scandal."

"So….?" Snake began, " You're suggesting that we find a me lookalike and put him at the bottom of the Lower New York Harbour? But all bodies are checked for a genetic match…"

Snake stopped dead. _Genetic match. _Suddenly he realised what Mei Ling had suggested. He exchanged a glance with a wide-eyed Otacon.

"No, no Snake…" Mei Ling breathed, a determined look in her eye, "Because you have an indisputable advantage…"

Snake felt a twisting sensation in his stomach. Suddenly the voices were roaring in his head once more.

_You're drowning in time…__**Brother**__..._

"Yeah…" Snake whispered, gravely.

"….I'm a twin…."

* * *

**Oooo errrr.....**

**Thank you for reading!**


	3. Briefing

**A big thank you to Shining Zephyr/MasterMillerLITE/PP18 for the reviews, and all the feedback.**

**It is greatly appreciated. Again, thank you to everyone who took the time to read my work. **

**Enjoy the third installment. **

* * *

"_It's been a while, brother.."_

_**"Who are you?"**_

"_You know who I am."_

**"_Liquid?!"_**

* * *

"...When we first convened after Shadow Moses, I managed to get Nastasha to find out where Liquid's body went, along with those of the Genome soldiers...."

Snake could hear Mei Ling speaking, somewhere near him. Opening his eyes, he rolled over, grateful that another attempt to fall asleep had passed.

"...What I found out from her was that the body was 'donated' to ASHG, and all money needed to fund the further investigation into clones of Big Boss and creating the ultimate soldier through gene therapy, as well as the expertise needed to further extract and develop FOXDIE, was funded by the government. After the death of Dr. Clark , the focus of the research had been into microscopic biological weapons, rather than macroscopic ones. Specifically, weapons that could eliminate people based on their gender, nationality, ethnicity and eventually, exact genetic codes. That was mostly conducted by a woman thought to be 'Dr. Naomi Hunter'. With her locked up, and the truth about FOXDIE and the Genome Soldiers exposed, there was no other way than that the government 'donate' the bodies to a non-profit organization and 'oversee' its development and analysis..."

As Mei Ling spoke, Otacon was typing rapidly and flicking through various websites and pages of what seemed like pure binary.

"Okay..." said Snake, getting up off the couch where he had been resting, "But where is the body now? I'm guessing it's not in the country..."

"Probably not in this continent, Snake..." Mei Ling mumbled, "And that's a factor that could be key to our success here."

Lacklustre sunlight was beginning to feebly penetrate the thin curtains across the window, and the noise of New York City outside was beginning to resemble the morning rush.

"How long do you think we have...?" asked Otacon, still appearing preoccupied with his hacking.

"The diving operation to clear the tanker wreckage and retrieve the Marines' bodies should take less than a week, " Snake informed, " There gonna put all the men they can spare on that clean-up. I'd say we've got about five days..."

"That doesn't give us a lot of time, does it?" Mei Ling wondered anxiously, raking her fingers through her long black hair. The sleepless night had taken its toll on her – the only one who seemed completely alert was Hal, hurriedly devouring the internet with his keyboard and mouse.

The atmosphere in the room was overtly tense; they were hovering precariously over a very large fall, walking a tightrope over a strong political gorge. Since Mei Ling's arrival, they had received various messages from other Philanthropy sectors, demanding to know if Snake were alive or dead, but Otacon had taken a strong stance of silence. Much to his dislike, no further message had been received from the anonymous email address, which he had been unable to trace. Neither had there been any success with the location of their anonymous tip. When the hacker tried to reply to the message, he received a very annoyed email from the manager of a car parts manufacturer in Madrid.

"_Whoever these guys are...they know what they're doing..."_ thought Hal, as he continued to dissect the web, looking instead for the location of Liquid's body. He couldn't get the image of a man walking down a path, using a tree branch to smooth over his footprints, out of his head. However, Hal knew the places to look, and the questions to ask. _What happened to the branch?_ Sometimes what hackers use to cover up their clues can be clues themselves.

Mei Ling, in an attempt to lighten the mood slightly, and bridge the gap between the little apartment and the outside world, made the mistake of turning on the T.V.

"...it is suggested that over fifty U.S. Marines were killed in the sinking of the U.S.S. Discovery..."

Mei Ling, realising her mistake, was about to get up and turn it off, when she noticed Snake chuckling sarcastically.

"I never imagined I'd see my favourite newsreader talking about me..."

Mei Ling glanced up at the attractive brown haired woman on the screen, and then abruptly turned off the TV. Snake wasn't sure whether it was because of his crude comment or the depressing news headlines; either way it amused him. Mei Ling smiled inwardly; she was glad to see that the possibility of an impending excursion was making him revert to his old self, even if his tone was still somewhat pessimistic.

Mei Ling sighed, feeling the sweat gathering on her brow, and the knots tightening in her shoulders.

"Urghh, I need a bath..." she gasped, looking up at Snake questioningly.

"Can't I'm afraid," he growled, putting a cigarette in his mouth, "I'm soaking my sneaking suit...Damn thing stinks..."

"Found it!" Otacon suddenly announced with an excited yelp, and Mei Ling and Snake hurriedly forgot their conversation and appeared over his shoulder. Otacon gently pushed Mei Ling's hair out of his face, as he carried on flicking from window to window.

"The cryogenics company that ASHG used to store the bodies is called Thales Cryogenics, the former cryogenics department of the Signaal USFA, and Cryotech. Liquid's body was moved to a lab in Europe and, overseen by the ASHG and EuroGenTest, experimented on forthwith. The body, at the time of transportation, was seen to be missing its left arm..."

Snake's blood ran cold.

_**Liquid's arm!?!**_

Well that made sense.

"Now, there's no exact location given, but I've done a bit more digging. The former USFA lab is located in Eindhoven, in the Netherlands. The Cryotech Lab is in Toulouse, France. So we can safely say that Liquid's body is in one of those locations."

"There's no way of knowing which one?" asked Mei Ling, who was staring at the screen and trying to decipher Otacon's notes.

"Well, not really," Hal began, pushing his glasses further up his nose, " But I've heard of this cryogenics company before, in fact, when I was in weapons development, they used to make coolers to store diatomic gases and chemicals at low temperatures. Since they were given the responsibility of Liquid and the remainder of the Genome Army, it's no surprise that all traces of their existence have suddenly vanished. I imagine that these few ghost files are all the digital information left of them..."

"Ughh, Hal!" Mei Ling exclaimed, "We don't have time to raid a lab in the Netherlands and one in France. We only have a few days to pull this off!"

"Toulouse and Eindhoven aren't exactly little towns either..." grunted Snake, "We don't know the exact location of either of these labs..."

"I know... which is why I was thinking..."

Hal spun around in his chair to face them.

"I was thinking that we'd get a better idea of their location if we could obtain the information directly from the ASHG headquarters, in Bethesda, D.C."

Mei Ling shook her head.

"No, no , no. Snake doesn't have time for that either!" Mei Ling cried, looking exasperated.

Hal smirked.

"Who said anything about Snake?"

Mei Ling and the soldier exchanged glances, neither quite sure what their friend was implying, and about whom.

"What?" they said, one after the other. Otacon continued to smile blithely.

"Think about it," he said, sighing, "We could send Snake to a relay point in Europe, a place from which he could easily travel to France or Holland, whilst sending someone else to the facility in Bethesda. As soon as the location is obtained, we could send it over, immediately have Snake on the next train to either country and there you have it..."

"So....who's going to do that then....?" Mei Ling asked unsteadily, her voice wobbling. She knew the answer to her own question.

"Well...." Otacon said simply, grinning widely, and he gestured his hands out towards her.

"...You did very well in the ROTC program at MIT. Quite a good shot, so I heard..." added Snake, sharing his friend's grin.

"But this is a civilian administrative office!"

Otacon nodded.

"Right, so we'll be going down the fake I.D. route. I don't think that'll be much of a problem, I know a dodgy lawyer..." Hal seemed to lose his trail of thought for a moment, "But! We shouldn't be worrying about that right now. What we need to worry about now is how we're going to get across the Atlantic..."

Otacon jumped up, and began grabbing sheets of paper that lay strewn around his desk.

In a panicky rush, they managed to clear the kitchen table, and lay out some sheets of paper to plan on. Within minutes of organising the space, Hal laid down what looked to be like a large blueprint of an aeroplane.

"Back when we were investigating Metal Gears in Eastern Europe," he said wistfully, "I got the name of a guy with this little number..."

He tapped the sheet.

"..Who could fly us across the Atlantic, and he took cash. We never needed him in the end, if you remember, Snake..."

"Yeah I do..." he growled, inspecting the blueprint, "We ended hitching a ride with your friend in the navy..."

Hal nodded, a nostalgic expression on his face.

"Well I think I'll give him a call...The next issue is, where are we going to go?"

Mei Ling began her pacing once again.

"I think, the question really is, who do we know in Europe?"

The three of them thought about it for a long moment.

It only took him a moment to realise.

Snake knew someone in Europe, but he was reluctant to go barking up that tree. He waited for a time, wanting either of his friends to come up with some wonderful suggestion that was much better. Realising that no such solution existed, he let out a deep sigh.

"Roy Campbell is in England," he breathed, and watched as Otacon and Mei Ling suddenly reciprocated his uncertainty in their expressions.

"Hmmm..." muttered Hal, "That sounds like the best course of action. I'm sure he wouldn't mind harbouring you. It would only really be for a day, provided everything goes to plan..."

Snake wandered over to the window, and pulled back the drab curtain to look at the street. It was busy outside.

"Yeah...but...I'm not sure whether getting Roy involved is a good idea..."

Hal shrugged.

"The way I see it, Snake...he owes you a favour..."

* * *

**Damn right he does.**

**Thanks for reading. **


	4. RPG

**Wow. Chapter 4. Look at my attention span go! **

**Thank you ****for the reviews, and thanks to all my readers.**

**I hope you enjoy this. **

* * *

"Who are you?"

"Katherine Leung."

"How old are you?

"I'm twenty-three."

"Why are you here?"

"I'm researching for my MSc."

"Where do you study?"

"MIT."

"And who are?"

"Katherine Leung."

"How old are you again?"

"I'm twenty three."

Otacon's questioning routine carried on as he slowly stirred chicken and vegetables in a large pan on the stove. Mei Ling was sat quietly at the kitchen table, mumbling to herself and breathing deeply.

"Have I got the character down?" Mei Ling wondered aloud, and received no reply from the man sat opposite her, or the chef.

"Yeah..." answered Snake, after a moment, "Don't be afraid to improvise some characterizations. The more detail you can put into your identity, the more convincing it will seem. "

"Okay..."

"And for the love of god Mei Ling, don't mention recent events, or Metal Gears; they'll suspect you. There's a limit to what disguises we can have."

Mei Ling nodded, thoughtfully.

"Which reminds me..." she said, jumping up, "It's your turn I think. Where is it, Hal?"

Otacon twisted his head.

"In the bathroom cabinet."

Snake groaned as Mei Ling wandered into the bathroom, coming back with a towel and a black case. She draped the towel over Snake's shoulders, before removing the shaver from its case and bending down to plug it in.

"Okay, Mei," Snake growled, "Just get it over with..."

"I'm sorry, Snake," muttered Otacon, who was dishing out the food, "But it really is quicker than dying it..."

Snake nodded, and closed his eyes as he heard the whirring noise. He heard the clanging of a plate being put in front of him, and squinted, seeing his hair flutter down onto the floor.

"So Snake..." said Hal inquisitively, "Who are you?"

Snake grunted.

"Russell Sprout..."

Mei Ling stifled a giggle as she manoeuvred the shaver.

"No!" Hal snapped.

"What's wrong with Russell Sprout?"

"You are not being Russell Sprout!!" Hal sighed in exasperation, "Now I'll ask you again...Who are you?"

Snake thought for a moment.

"Hmmmm......how about....Iroquois Pliskin.....?"

Otacon shook his head and put his hand to his face, wiping the glistening sheen from his skin. Mei Ling was smiling brightly in amusement, crouching slightly so as to do the back of Snake's head.

"Snake...What did I tell you about exotic names? It's unwise to draw attention to ourselves..."

Snake moved his hand up to touch his hair, and Mei Ling slapped it away.

"Okay..." he grumbled, "No extravagant names...I'll put that one away for another time. Assuming there is another time..."

The whirring noise slowed to a stop as Mei Ling switched off the clippers.

"Done!" said Mei Ling, and Snake stood up immediately, letting the towel drop from his shoulders, as he walked straight to the mirror in the bathroom to admire his grade one.

Mei Ling began to tuck into her food, and stared as Snake wandered back into the room, a malevolent scowl on his face.

"Doesn't suit me, does it?"

Mei Ling shook her head.

"Only temporary, Snake," she reminded, "I'm sure you can handle a few months without looking yourself. Remember, _Crows everywhere are equally black."_

"I was wondering when you were going to start...."

"Hehe..."

Snake leant against the table and picked up his plate, digging in.

"So, Snake," Otacon began, putting his knife and fork together, "I was thinking...teacher on sabbatical?"

Snake nodded.

"What do I teach?"

"Something you can talk about if someone asks you. I suggest you don't say computer science..."

Hal remembered his countless attempts to get Snake interested in robotics, but all he'd ever got in return was a sarcastic "_English, please_".

Snake grinned to himself.

"History," he said decisively.

"A history teacher? How fascinating," Otacon sang in an interested tone, "Tell me, where do you teach?"

Snake gave Hal a glare, frustrated by the scientist's need to role-play.

"Stanford University."

"Oh. So you're a professor then, not a teacher?"

"I'm a lecturer," Snake growled, his eyebrows pushed together in contempt.

"See Snake," Otacon chastised, in his normal persona, "You've got to get these details down...Now, try again. What's your name?"

He paused.

"Raymond Connors."

"No hesitating," Hal snapped, before smiling sweetly, "Now tell me Mr. Connors, what do you do?"

"I'm a lecturer. I teach history."

"That's soooo interesting," Hal mused, giving the impression of an infatuated date, "Where do you teach?"

"Stanford University."

"And what's your name?"

"Raymond Connors."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a lecturer. I teach history."

"And you teach at...?"

"Stanford University."

"Perfect!" said Hal, with finality, "Keep it like that, and you'll be fine."

He stood up, and cleared the plates away, dropping them in the sink.

* * *

The evening rolled by unsteadily. A fair attempt to plan every mission detail had been initiated, but the amount of variables in the operation meant it would be impossible to stick to. The atmosphere was thick with apprehension, each of them feeling very overwrought, but all too frightened to voice it. When the night had fallen, they'd switched the lights off and lit a few candles, to keep an impression of not being home, just in case someone decided to call.

By the time it was very early morning, Mei Ling was sat alone in the kitchen, surrounded by an ominous dim glow from the candle in front of her. If she squinted, she could see the fading silhouette of Hal, sleeping in his computer chair. She sighed. It had been an impossibly long day, but she still couldn't sleep. The silence in the apartment was flawless, spotless; if she stayed still, she could hear Snake's surprisingly gentle breaths as he slept in his room. She had imagined he would be the type who snored, what with all the smoking.

The only thing that distracted her from the avid sickness she felt in the pit of her stomach, was the flickering flame in front of her, and she stared at it, transfixed, watching the orange and blue colours as they danced.

_Get a grip, Mei Ling. What would your mother say?_

She shuddered as memories of her mother's sharp voice berated her in her head. She was so consumed by those thoughts, that when a harsh beeping noise sounded, she jumped

Hearing a hand slam against an alarm clock, she listened intently as Snake rolled out of bed and rustled about in his room. It must have been nearing 2 AM.

Hal, who had also heard the alarm, woke startled, wondering why he wasn't in his own bed, before remembering the previous day. He swung the chair around and stood up, wandering into the kitchen with the candle from the living room. Placing it beside Mei Ling's, he sat down opposite her, and gave her a half-smile, which she returned.

After a moment's wait, Snake walked in, dressed in long brown trousers, yellow and white shirt, covered by a corduroy blazer. Between Snake's undone top button, and the dark scarf he wore, Mei Ling could see a patch of dark navy. His sneaking suit.

"Take care, Snake..." she whispered, and he nodded, pulling out a long strip of fabric from his pocket, and handing it to her.

"It doesn't work without the hair," he explained, "You borrow it. Maybe my luck will rub off on you."

Mei Ling smiled, and tucked it into her shirt pocket.

"Thank you, Snake..."

"I want it back."

"Of course."

He grinned at her.

"Okay, Snake," said Hal, walking out of the room, and returning with a brown bag, "This is all you need."

He handed the bag to Snake, who rummaged through it.

"You should find your M9, USP, four chaff grenades, ten thousand British pounds, twelve thousand Euros, and a few packs of cigarettes. The brown envelope has fifteen thousand dollars for the pilot. I think you should manage on that..."

"This is turning into a very expensive trip."

"Better spend it while we have it, Snake," Otacon advised, "And I'm sure I don't need to tell you this, but keep kills to an absolute minimum, and I mean absolute. Majority of the people in these labs will be civilians. Try to go for zero on this one; it'll be so much easier to clean up."

Snake put the bag over his shoulder.

"Okay. Don't worry about me Otacon, I'm a pro."

He wandered over to the window, and pulled back the curtain.

"The car's here," he announced.

"Okay. As soon as Mei Ling gets the information, I'll send it over to you. You make your way, and I'll fly out to England. From there, I should be able to give you instructions on my XZLINE frequency, but it'll take time to get over. You'll have to start the infiltration by yourself."

"I know..."

"By the way, what did Roy say?"

Snake frowned.

"I haven't called him yet. I'll use a payphone when I get into London."

"No, wait!" cried Mei Ling, jumping up and running into the living room. She returned with her gym bag, which had remained untouched since she arrived. She unzipped it, and brought out a small brown box. Inside were mods of old Nokia phones.

"Otacon mentioned safe lines, so I thought these would come in handy. I developed them with my peers back in MIT. They're untraceable, disposable cell phones. You get one call before they shut down. We didn't manage to integrate the texting feature, though. You should take a few."

Snake grabbed a few from the box

"Thanks, Mei Ling...That'll be safer. Now you guys should get some sleep."

"Hal and I are driving out in the morning. I'll be fine. I promise."

Snake nodded.

"I know you can do it."

Mei Ling smiled, and Snake took a deep breath. Hal stood and patted him on the back.

"Good luck, Snake," he said, formally.

Snake nodded, and with a brisk step, walked to the door and unlocking it. He managed a quick, informal salute before disappearing into the night. Mei Ling stood at the window, and watched as he climbed into the black car waiting outside. She didn't move until it was completely out of sight. When she had ascertained that he was safe, she turned around to Hal.

"We better get some sleep..."

"Right."

Mei Ling walked forward. Bending down, she blew the candles out, and they were in darkness.

* * *

In the car, Snake was staring at one of Mei Ling's cell phones, wondering if he should call Roy. It would be seven in the morning, in England. He mulled it over, tossing the phone from hand to hand, eventually dialling the number. It rang just once, before it was answered. He spoke as soon as he heard it click.

"Roy....It's me..." Snake mumbled, glancing up at the driver, breathing deep, "...It's David..."

There was silence. For a moment, he wondered if something was wrong, or whether Roy was just tired and annoyed.

"...Snake...?"

He froze. His heart began to palpitate.

It wasn't Roy's voice.

Without thinking, he immediately hung up, and dropped the phone onto the floor of the car.

_That voice_. He knew it so well. A melodic, female voice.

"Meryl...." he mumbled.

He stared down at the phone.

It was dead.

* * *

**Dun dun DUH!!!!! **

***dramatic pause* **


	5. God Save the Queen

**A great thank you to all my viewers, and reviewers. Your support sustains me!!!! *drama***

**I never thought I had these powers of commitment. I'm really proud of my work thus far!!! *enthusiasm* XD **

**Hope you enjoy the fifth installment. :)**

* * *

The two receptionists were sat idly at their desks, mouths churning out a little chatter, and hands furiously clicking on whatever tickled their fancy, when she walked in. The glass doors parted so delicately that they heard the click of her heels on the marble floor first. She strutted in as though the distance between the door and the circular desk was a catwalk, and she owned it. The very expensive and hastily bought skirt suit that she wore was needlessly formal, and the round dark sunglasses not only hid her eyes, but completed the illusion of being fearfully important.

Playing out her part perfectly, Mei Ling rested one elbow on the desk, and tipped her sunglasses with her coat-covered right arm.

"Miss Leung," she announced, staring the receptionists up and down, "I'm here to speak to Roger, in Genetics."

They stared at her, their dubiousness hidden by the mandatory plastic smile.

"Of course," said one, with a bright grin, but eyes that wanted to hurt her, "If you just wait a mom-"

"_Miss Leung!!"_

The heavily intonated voice sang from somewhere to her left, and she span to see a tall grey-haired gentleman walking towards her, arms wide in jubilation.

"Roger Green, I believe?" Mei Ling ascertained, and removed her sunglasses completely, placing them in her suit pocket.

"Why Miss Leung..." he proclaimed, straightening his lab coat, "We've been anticipating your arrival. I must say, it thrills us to be helping such a driven student. Our organization is not as highly regarded as some, among geneticists. We are honoured you have chosen to visit us."

"Believe me; the honour is completely mine..." Mei Ling said, sweetly, and she saw the look of endearment in the old scientist's eyes.

"Well..." he said, clasping his hands together, "We only spoke briefly on the phone. Tell me, where would you like to go first, on the grand tour? Storage? Medicinal Resources? Archives?"

Mei Ling paused, never letting her affable smile fade.

"Hmmm...well, as long as I see everything there is to see, then it's to your preference, Roger..."

Mr. Green's expression of naive euphoria amused Mei Ling greatly. He seemed to have '_Well, my buttons have been pushed' _written all over him.

"Well, Archives and the canteen are in the basement, so let's say we work our way down and have lunch?"

"Sounds like a plan," she said, smiling cheerfully as he led her away to the elevator. Whilst she followed him, a small voice sounded in her ear.

"_You're better at this than I expected," Hal congratulated, "Keep it up, Kat."_

_Kat? _Mei Ling liked the sound of that. It was almost like an alter-ego. _A code name. _

She smiled, unable to hide her pride.

As she stepped inside the elevator, she let her hand creep into her pocket, and wrapped her fingers round the small disk that Otacon had given her.

_Okay. Here we go. _

The doors pinged, and opened.

* * *

A loud guttering sound shook the container, and Snake awoke with a groan as a jolt made his head collide with the window. Rubbing his neck, he could feel the unsteady decline of the vessel, and clutched at the edges of the bench, breathing deep and ignoring the crunching sensation in his stomach.

"Y'alright back there?" shouted the pilot to him, and Snake looked up to see him twisting in the cockpit.

"FINE" Snake shouted irritably, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing the back of his neck. He felt a nauseating bounce as the small plane hit the ground, and coasted along the runway, causing his body to shake. It wasn't long until the flying tin can came to a stop, and the pilot removed his gear and jumped out.

Snake took a moment to regain his composure, before hauling the side hatch open, and jumping down onto what appeared to be a small airfield, that was completely empty, save for themselves. In front of them was a large house.

"Urhhh –humnn..." the pilot coughed.

Snake saw his uncovered face for the first time, and it was heavily square and sported an aggressive expression. Ignoring the obvious throat-clearing noise, Snake handed him the brown envelope, which the pilot checked, then tucked under his arm.

Snake looked around. Far off, there were trees, and houses. Wherever they had landed, it was civilian.

"Where are we...?" asked Snake, his voice a little hoarse after his long sleep.

"Basingstoke," replied the pilot, gruffly, "I take it you want London?"

Snake nodded, and suddenly realised his hungry desire for a cigarette. He fished in his bag, and pulled out a packet, and his lighter.

"Walk over that end of the field," the man pointed towards the house, "Vault that fence and you'll be on the street. Take three rights, or follow the signs, and you'll be at a train station. They leave regularly for Waterloo."

Snake thanked him, and lit up as he walked across the airfield, inhaling the smoky air with a feeling of deep relief. Looking up, he could see and a soft amber glow emanating across the sky. Suddenly wary of the time, he glanced at his watch, only to realise it needed correcting. He set it five hours forward, and saw that it was 5:10 P.M. GMT.

By the time Snake had wandered the unfamiliar darkening streets to the train station, he had decided that the best course of action was to hurry on to London, and decide what to do when he got there. When he got off the train at Waterloo, he couldn't help but glanced towards the newspaper vendors to read the headlines. Only a few displayed anything related to the Manhattan incident; Snake was grateful what English press coverage wasn't as vehement as what he might have seen back in the States.

Stepping out from the station into a bitterly cold evening wind, Snake tried to remember his way around London, from his previous visits. He wandered over Waterloo Bridge, amused by the fact that he noticed every time a black taxi cab passed him, or a red double-decker bus. Pacing the streets, London began to feel familiar to him again, despite the darkness. However, Snake had no idea where he was going, or where he could go. After an hour of non-stop walking, trying his best to look like he was headed somewhere, he found himself in Leicester Square, and saw a very inviting bench under a copse of trees. Once he was sat down, he removed another of Mei Ling's phones, and wondered what he should do.

_Why did I hang up on her? She would've known where the Colonel was!!_

Snake cursed himself for doing it, but he couldn't force himself to regret it. He couldn't speak to her. The words had vanished in his throat. And he didn't know why.

Angrily snatching up the phone, he punched Hal's seldom used civilian cell number. Snake knew he would have it with him, but wouldn't be expecting him to call. After several rings, Otacon's voice picked up, thick with an odd accent.

"Martin's Pet Supplies, how may I help you?"

"Otacon. It's me."

There was a strange pause on the other end of the line.

"Snake, why are using this number??" Hal asked, in his normal voice.

"I need a cell phone number for Roy Campbell. Can you get it?"

Otacon clicked his tongue.

"No answer at home?"

Snake swallowed.

"Yeah..."

"Okay then Snake, I'm kinda tied up with Mei Ling, but I gotta say, she's handling this wonderfully..."

"That's good to hear."

"I'll find that number for you right away. Call you back in five?"

"You can't call me back. It's an untra-"

"Sorry! I forgot. You call me."

"In five?"

"In five."

Snake hung up, and watched as the phone slowly powered down. He couldn't get used to that; there was something oddly ominous about it.

Snake smoked some more under the dim light of the streetlamps, the smoke lingering around him as the air became stiller. He used his best judgement to determine five minutes, before picking up another phone. After this one kicked the bucket he would only have two left. Exhaling a long chain of smoke, he cleared his throat, and dialled the number.

"Tyler's Tux Rentals."

Snake sighed.

"You couldn't have guessed that was me, Otacon?"

"Better safe than sorry."

Hal read out the number, and Snake trusted his unrivalled memory to keep hold of it.

When Hal returned his attentions back to Mei Ling, and the third phone went dead, Snake brought out one of its brother, and punched in Roy's number.

Holding it stiffly at his ear, he felt a tension seize him, even though he knew a repeat of what happened earlier was impossible.

After a few excruciating minutes, Snake heard the sound of a crowded dining room, then a shaky intake of breath.

"Hello. Roy Campbell speaking."

Snake exhaled.

"Roy. It's me..."

He didn't think he needed to say much more than that.

"Ah...." Roy's voice mumbled down the phone, muffled by light music, "I was expecting this phone call..."

_Of course he was._

"Yeah.....Look, we need to meet. Now."

Snake thought it best to be succinct.

"I agree."

"Roy, where are you?"

The music stopped.

"I'm at a hotel in the West End. Where are you?"

"Leicester Square."

Roy made a sound of approval.

"Snake, look around you. Do you see a bar called 'The Moon Under Water'?"

Snake shifted in his seat, and squinted towards a small area down a slope, where some people were gathered. He checked the sign.

"Yeah...I see it."

"Go in, sit down. I'll be there as soon as I can..."

The Colonel hung up abruptly.

Snake admired his ability to keep things professional, and not ask too many questions at the same time. Those were Roy Campbell's greatest strengths, and his weaknesses.

Pulling his head down into his coat collar, Snake strolled across the square.

Walking quietly past the customers outside, he pulled the door to, and stepped inside, the smell of smoke and ale filling his nose.

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**

**I really hope this is gripping you. I'm trying to make it as exciting as possible. XD**


	6. The Prince

**Again, thank you to my many loyal reviewers. **

**As a reward, here is part six. XD**

* * *

If there was ever going to be a repeat of Moses, then it was now.

It felt like Moses.

The way he knew he was in deeper than he originally thought. On the surface, Snake could trick his subconscious into thinking it was any ordinary mission. In reality, memories kept bubbling up, and that image of Ocelot clenching his fist, and speaking with Liquid's voice, made him shudder.

The closest he had ever been to his brother was their fight after he defeated Metal Gear. The time he had found out about _Les Enfants Terrible, _and about what he really was.

He remembered Liquid's speech. A familiar, and relevant passage.

"_Liquid....you're still alive?"  
_

On his eyelids, Snake could see his sadistic grin.

"_I won't die...  
_

"_....__**as long as you still live...."  
**_

Could he have known? Could there be some sick and twisted reason that Liquid wasn't dead, and was somehow alive through his arm?

Snake reprimanded himself for thinking such things. He had _seen_ him die.

"_Then again...Stranger things have happened..."_

After all, he was sure he remembered Naomi Hunter saying something about the possibility of genes carrying memories. Could you inherit someone's characteristics if you took their limbs, or organs?

Every ounce of his common sense, and his above average scientific knowledge, told him that there was no way that was possible.

But he was _still _doubting it.

Snake couldn't believe himself.

"Hi, can I get you anything?"

Snake blinked, and was harshly pulled from his reverie by a barmaid with poker straight hair and a thick Scottish accent. He didn't think she was old enough to be working at a bar, and then hastily reminded himself of the lower drinking age.

Before opening his mouth to speak, Snake pondered whether he should have an accent himself, but then again, if he was a History teacher from America, what accent was there? Now he thought about it, 'Raymond Connors' sounded quite Irish.

"Nothing for me, thank you."

Snake was proud that he was getting good use out of his study into accents. Working for FOXHOUND, you had to learn to blend in with the local people in an area. If he managed to get to Europe, he'd get good use out of his languages too.

"Okay, well let me know if you need anything..."

The barmaid scuttled away, and Snake noticed that the pub was getting more and more crowded. Being with lots of people was certainly not his scene, but he tried to focus on the time, and the thick smell of smoke in the air that soothed his tense muscles.

He wanted to know how Mei Ling was getting on, but he only had one phone left, and he was going to save it, in case anything should happen.

And then he remembered again.

Meryl.

It had been about five months, and hearing that warm voice again for the first time in a cold half-year had startled him. In that moment, he'd felt joy, and it frightened him.

He'd resisted the temptation to check on her so many times, convincing himself that she was better off without him, not managing even a phone call or a letter.

That depressing goodbye; the realisation that the loving thing to do was to let her go. But he hadn't wanted her to go, and he knew she didn't want to leave him either. It was a necessary separation nonetheless. She trained all her life as a soldier, as had he. She wanted to find something to fight for, and see the world as the soldier she wanted to be. He had seen the world. He had done those things.

He couldn't go with her.

Snake sighed heavily again. He shouldn't be thinking about it. There was nothing he could do about it now.

_Except that last phone..._

No. That was a stupid idea. If he still had the phone at the end of the mission, he would use it.

The bell above the entrance rang. Snake felt a breeze of air from the door as it opened, and the rustle of the carpet. He didn't turn his head to observe the arrival, rather he observed from the corner of his eye, his whole body aware of his movements. The man walked around his back, and sat down on the stool beside him, ordering a glass of sherry for himself.

"Nice flight?" he asked, his voice thin and full of the resonance of old age. Snake merely turned his head, and nodded at the aging man, who wore a brown suit, and a baker hat.

Roy Campbell accepted the glass of sherry from the barmaid, and twirled it in his hand, sighing with perpetual pessimism.

"What's your name?"

It would seem an odd question to be asked, among two old friends, if you were unaware they were both war veterans. Snake smiled at the irony, knowing that the Colonel really meant to ask what the safest name to call him was.

"Raymond Connors."

Snake was getting sick of the name. He found it pretentious.

The Colonel appeared to chuckle, as his shoulders moved up and down rapidly.

"Ray and Roy...."

Snake smiled. Patiently, he waited until Campbell had finished the rest of his drink, before tapping him on the arm, and leading him out into the street, which was now cast over by darkness.

As they walked, Roy took off his hat, and pulled himself upright by holding his hands behind his back.

"I heard all about what happened," he began, "You know, for a moment, I thought you were dead."

Roy took a deep breath.

"But then I remembered who you were..."

Snake couldn't help but grin.

"Well, I am the cockroach of the military world."

Roy waved a hand out into the street, and the two of them climbed into a cab. As the car manoeuvred around London, both men were careful to remain silent, and wait until they could speak in private.

The car pulled up outside a grand looking hotel, with a marble staircase leading up to brass revolving doors. Roy climbed out of the cab, and led Snake up the steps, nodding his head in greeting to the porters. The lobby was even more marble, with red carpet runners along the floor and golden chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The walls were decorated with candelabras and large paintings of landscapes.

Roy placed a hand on the front desk.

"Campbell, Room 1015. I'll be needing another room, if you don't mind..."

The receptionist he spoke to replied immediately, not even having to check her computer.

"I'm sorry, but we have no other rooms, single, double, or otherwise. The only vacancy we have is in the Prince Suite."

Roy nodded in approval.

"That'll be fine."

The receptionist smiled brightly, obviously thrilled not to have the same response as the other many customers she'd had to turn away that night.

"Here's your key, Mr. Campbell," she handed him a card, "Will you still be needing your other room?"

Roy paused in thought.

"No," he rescinded, "I think the suite will be plenty big enough."

Snake waited whilst Roy paid and returned his old keys. When he was done, he walked briskly over to the elevator, and Snake followed, trying to seem as though he had a good reason to be in a place of such grandeur, when he was dressed so inadequately.

The porter in the elevator greeted them both with a wide smile, and Roy directed him to the right floor. When the elevator doors opened, they were in a brightly lit hall, with more red carpet and abstract artwork. Roy led him down the corridor to a tall door at the end, with a placard on it that read 'Prince Suite'. Fumbling for a moment with the card key, Roy eventually let them in.

The suit in itself was almost like a well decorated city apartment, but not as open. In the longue room, there appeared to be one large set of French windows, covered by thick maroon velvet curtains. Roy went to the fireplace and lit it, before sitting down on a large sofa, and gesturing for Snake to do the same.

"I don't often use this..." he mumbled, "But it's nice, once in a while."

Snake assumed he was referring to the suite. Removing his coat, he slumped awkwardly in an armchair; the aches in his muscles told him he was beginning to feel the repercussions of that flight.

"Snake..."

The Colonel's voice was suddenly authoritative.

"I don't know why you're here, or what you're planning to do, but I hope you understand just how much trouble you're in..."

Snake grunted.

"In don't _need_ lectures Roy. The fact of the matter is, we were framed. Tricked. The whole thing was a charade to catch us, and they got us. We were like moths to a flame – we didn't stand a chance..."

Roy nodded.

"Yes. It has come to my attention that the whole operation was a ruse to catch out Philanthropy – those sources I have. I also know that Ocelot now has Metal Gear Ray. That is...unfortunate..."

Snake could feel his blood beginning to boil.

"...What I don't know is, what is you plan for getting out of this? They have photographic evidence of you, and there's no denying it's you, I've seen it. It's clear as day. If I were you, I'd be hiding – unless, of course...That's why you're here?"

Roy leaned forward in his seat, to give Snake an inquisitive glare.

"No Roy," Snake said quietly, "I have a much more dangerous way of getting out of this..."

Roy raised an eyebrow.

"Which is?"

Again, Snake thought it best to be blunt.

"Stealing my brother's body and dumping it at the bottom of the New York Harbour..."

A look of pure alarm crossed Roy's face.

"_Liquid's body?"_

"The very same..."

Roy stared in utter shock and disbelief. Feeling a need to fill the silence, Snake continued.

"I just need you to keep me hidden for the next 24 hours. We know the lab in which the body is being probed is in one of two places in Europe. As soon as Otacon and Mei Ling find out which one, I'll be gone."

Roy, regaining his composure, nodded.

"That sounds like a good plan, if you can pull it off, Snake. Transporting a dead body across the ocean. Sounds tricky....but, I think maybe I could help with that..."

"I was banking on it."

Roy smiled.

"What a good way to keep you from being a pariah Snake. Faking your own death. Your popularity will soar, you know. The book sales, too, I would think..."

Snake wondered what he meant, before remembering.

"_In the Darkness of Shadow Moses._...I've not read it yet. Nastasha was kind to donate her turnover to Philanthropy, though..."

Roy nodded, before getting up and wandering over to the bar, and producing a bottle of whiskey. He found some glasses, and poured them each a share.

"I head you were a bit rude to Meryl on the phone..."

Snake froze, holding his glass at the edge of his lips. Of course, she'd let him know about that...

"She took me by surprise, is all..." Snake murmured, before sipping his drink.

Roy smiled coyly.

"I'm out here a lot..." he said conversationally, "She's house-sitting for me..."

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

A loud and forceful knock sounded on the door. Roy jumped up, and headed towards the entrance to the suite. Snake's hands drifted into his bag, towards his gun.

"Who is it..?" asked Roy calmly, whilst sharing a look of trepidation with Snake.

"OPEN UP!" barked a harsh male voice, **"**THIS IS THE POLICE!"

* * *

**Hahhaha, oooh I'm cruel.**

**Thank you for reading! :)**


	7. Blind Data

**Once again, a much deserved thank you to all my viewers, and reviewers. It really means a lot that you take the time out to comment on my work.**

**Speaking of which, here's Chapter Seven.**

* * *

"...We launched the Regenesis program back in February, and so far, all our research has been favourably conclusive..."

Dr. Green wandered idly down the hallway, gesturing left and right to open doorways, most of which contained shelves, tanks and incubated Petri dishes. Mei Ling was beginning to tire of his constant chatting, though she had long become comfortable with his laid-back nature and infectious enthusiasm. However, despite this, she could still feel an anxious sensation in her body. She looked around, hoping to see something that would aid her in her search.

_Come on..._

"...and we've had a lot of government funding, after we passed the grant scheme. Already, we've had major development in our own Genetics, as well as in Biochemistry, Cryogenics, Chemical Engineering and Pharmacology..."

Mei Ling began to listen intently, wondering of a casual way to get him talking about the Cryogenics funding.

"Ahh..." Roger groaned, stopping abruptly in the corridor, "I'm hungry...Mind if we skip the archives and head straight to lunch?"

_Bingo_!

"Well actually, Roger, "Mei Ling spoke in her forced melodic voice, "I was rather hoping to take some notes. You mind if I look around?"

Mei Ling tilted her head gently to the side, and Roger turned around to face her, scratching his beard in thought.

"Yes, that sounds fine. I assume you can find your way around. If you need me, I'll be in the canteen."

"Thank you Roger..."

The old scientist smiled pleasantly, obviously still very captivated by Mei Ling's charm, and walked slowly to the elevator at the end of the long white hall. He gave a quick wave, then disappeared from sight. Mei Ling breathed a deep sigh, and leaned against the wall.

"Hal...can you hear me?"

"_Loud and clear, Kat..."_

" has told me that they were recently given more government funding for their departments, including Cryogenics. This place seems pretty low-security. It's very accessible, but....bare....There's almost no one around...."

"_Don't worry about it. Remember, this place is civilian. The body isn't here, bust these guys know where it is..."_

Mei Ling gently reminded herself of that fact, before taking another deep breath. She checked the corridor for cameras: nothing.

"Okay," she breathed, "Where do I go from here?"

"_Well..."_ Otacon began, "_The first place to look will be cryogenics section of the archives, which according to these blueprints, and what you told me earlier, is on floor B3". _

Mei Ling pulled herself up to her full height.

"Right. Let's go."

She trotted down the hall, stepping into the elevator and selecting floor B3.

"_Snake called," _Otacon said, as Mei Ling felt the container descend, _"He got to London just fine, but was having trouble getting in contact with Roy..."_

"I hope he's okay..." Mei Ling muttered aloud, her thoughts preoccupied.

As the doors opened, Mei Ling stepped out into what appeared to be another small lobby, with several large wooden doors. Finding the one labelled 'Archives', she gingerly stepped inside, taking in all her new surroundings as she went.

The archives consisted of long rows of filing cabinets, and tall bookcases. Large electric lights hung from the roof of the windowless room, and the walls were a drab metallic grey. The room smelt of dust and old paper.

"Can I help you?"

Mei Ling span around, and saw a shrewd looking middle-aged woman sat at a drab, uncluttered desk. The thin woman glared at Mei Ling like she was something the cat dragged in, and in retaliation, the young woman reinforced her character with her best supercilious smile.

"Hello, I'm looking for Cryogenics?"

The woman squinted, looking Mei Ling up and down, before briefly nodding her head.

"Third row on your left..."

Mei Ling smiled in thanks, and turned sharply on her heels, strutting towards the aisle. Turning on the third left, she began to quickly scan the files for any trace of Liquid's body.

"_Hey Kat, where are these guys keeping Walt Disney?"_

Mei Ling smiled.

"No sign of him yet, Hal..." she responded, "No sign of Liquid either..."

Hal made a noise in acknowledgement.

"_No, I didn't think there would be. They don't usually keep those things on paper; it'll be somewhere in the computer..."_

"What computer?"

Mei Ling glanced up, and her question was answered. Through the gaps in the shelves, she could see a large screen and a desktop computer just behind the archivist's desk.

"_There should be a computer somewhere with the digital archives on it...can you see it?"_

"Yeah I see it...but the secretary..."

"_Wait till she goes..."_

Mei Ling saw the sour faced woman sigh in fatigue, then pull a file from a desk drawer, and begin writing in it.

"She's not going anywhere, Hal..."

"_Hmmmmm..."_

Mei Ling watched the secretary intently, observing her every move, looking for some reason that she might vacate her position. Suddenly, the woman looked up with a fierce glare, and caught Mei Ling's glance. Panicking, she ducked down quickly, hiding from view.

"_Oh, I have an idea..."_

"Good..." breathed Mei Ling, "I think she's starting to suspect me...."

"_What's her name?"_

Mei Ling frowned.

"How would I know that?"

"_I'm not asking out of interest..."_ mumbled Otacon dryly, _"Can you see a label on the desk or something?"_

Mei Ling swallowed hard, before lifting her head gently upwards, and risking a glance towards the desk. Thankfully, the archivist was otherwise preoccupied. Sure enough, there was a small metal placard on the desk.

"Ms. Amanda Hodge."

"_Great. Give me a minute to work my magic..."_

"What are you doing?"

Mei Ling received no response. Frustrated, she wiped her brow, and waited. As she did, she decided to scan the files once more.

After a long, tense moment, Mei Ling straightened as she heard the sound of the door banging open and closed. Peering through the gaps, she saw one of the ditzy receptionists from the front desk appear in the doorway.

"I'm sorry Ms Hodge," the petite young woman mumbled, "But there's a call for you in the ground floor lobby."

Ms Hodge scowled, making her face look even more abhorrently twisted.

"Didn't you think to transfer it?" she snapped condescendingly, glaring at the small woman with fiery eyes.

"I-I couldn't get it to work, for some reason..."

Mei Ling grinned, and rolled her eyes. _Otacon..._

"Fine..." Ms. Hodge grunted, and strode out of the room, pushing past the receptionist, who soon followed her out.

"_Go!"_

Mei Ling jumped up, and ran out of the aisle, clambering over to the computer. Pressing buttons and tapping keys, she booted it up, and began a search for the information.

"Hal, I'm looking for the files..."

"_No time. I'll keep her on the phone as long as I can, but it won't be enough. Just copy the whole hard drive."_

Mei Ling remembered the disk in her pocket. Hurriedly raking through it, she clasped the disk with clammy hands, and shoved it into the drive.

"It's copying..."

The process seemed to be going painfully slow.

_Copying. 12%. Four minutes remaining._

"Come on, come on..." Mei Ling growled at the screen, anxiously looking behind her to see if anyone could be watching.

"Hurry up!"

_Copying. 54%. Two minutes remaining. _

"Urgh..."

Mei Ling tried to calm herself by breathing deep.

"_Okay, she's on her way back down. Get off that computer!"_

"One more minute!" she gasped, "It's not finished copying..."

_Copying. 87%. One minute remaining._

Mei Ling's breath began to quicken. She glanced behind at the door, and froze as she heard the elevator opening in the lobby.

_100% . Copy Complete. _

Mei Ling jammed her finger rapidly on the eject button, and heard the door bang open just as she span around. She instinctively dropped the disk onto the floor in front of her, and it skidded to the base of the desk.

"What are you doing?"

Mei Ling stared, dumbfounded and paralysed by fear.

"I-I was just looking for a book on the listings. We have a similar library program at the university..."

Ms. Hodge's stared at her through squinted eyes, saying nothing.

_Did she buy it?_

"It's Miss Leung isn't it?"

Mei Ling nodded hesitantly.

"Well, you may be at MIT, but that does not give you the right to help yourself to our archives, nor access our computer programs..."

"You're right," Mei Ling gushed, "Sometimes I get a bit carried away...."

Mei Ling gave a sweet smile. She cursed mentally as she felt her tough girl persona melt into innocent schoolgirl in a matter of seconds.

Ms. Hodge straightened, her glare softening.

"I believe Roger is waiting for you in the canteen..."

Mei Ling took the hint.

"Yes, of course...oh my!"

Mei Ling tried to make her clumsiness look authentic as she let her coat slip from her fingers and cascade onto the floor. Bending down, she scooped it up, smoothly concealing the disk in its folds.

Standing up, she smiled wryly at Ms Hodge, before strutting out of the door in much the manner she had entered the building.

As soon as the heavy wooden door shut behind her, she sighed in elation.

"_You alright Mei Ling?"_

"Never better..."

Hal chuckled.

"_Good, now get out of there. I need that disk ASAP..."_

"Right."

Mei Ling rode the lift back up to the ground floor, and sauntered across the marble to the front desk.

"You should've heard how she spoke to me! What a self-righteous cow."

"Don't worry about that old hag. She's had her day. She snaps at any young pretty thing..."

The receptionists quietened as Mei Ling approached, and both turned to her, smiling sweetly.

"Please, could you give my apologies to Roger ..." Mei Ling requested, leaning against the desk, "I've been called away due to...err..._personal reasons_. I hope he understands..."

"Of course."

"Thank you..."

Mei Ling smiled warmly at them, before turning and walking back towards the door, clutching her coat in one hand and the disk in the other. As she walked out, she felt the soft breeze hit her face, and she breathed deep.

"I'm out..."

"_Great. Well done Kat. I knew I could count on you..."_

"Thanks, Hal..."

"_I'll get a car over there right away..."_

"Okay."

Mei Ling couldn't help the swell of pride she felt inside her. Now it was all over, she could feel herself beginning to shake from the adrenaline.

"_Listen Mei Ling, there's something I need to speak to you about..."_

Mei Ling's pride was soon cut short by more anxiety as she sensed the ambivalence in Hal's tone.

"What is it, Hal?"

There was a long pause, in which Mei Ling felt her swell of confidence transform into a deep sickly sensation in the pit of her stomach.

"_It's about Snake...."_

* * *

***DRAMA***

**Thanks for reading ! **


	8. Young Love

**Again, a warm glass of milk and some cookies for all my viewers and reviewers. **

**THANK YOU!**

* * *

The Colonel and Snake exchanged a long, tense stare.

"Fire exit" said Roy quietly, "You can drop down to the stairs from the balcony..."

It took Snake just a moment to register the information. Roy readied himself by the door as Snake threw his satchel bad over his shoulder, and ran out of French doors onto the balcony. The view of London was nauseatingly breathtaking; he could see a vast array of lights penetrating the inky black, and the iridescent glowing circle that must've been the Millennium Eye beside the glassy shimmer of the River Thames. Far too preoccupied to check the whereabouts of the stairs, Snake immediately vaulted the railings, and clung to the ledge for dear life. He gritted his teeth in strain as he held on tightly, feeling the rush of air around his legs, and preparing to drop at any moment.

Roy, who had his hand on the latch, waited until Snake was out of sight.

"Just a moment, Officer..." Roy called, directing his voice away from the door, as the announcement was more for Snake than for the men outside. Snake heard it, and tried to twist his head to see if he could see the stairs below him. He managed to make out the glow of neighbouring windows, and nothing more.

_Shit..._

Snake could feel sweat gathering on his palms, and he slipped a small degree. Tightening his grip, he began to gulp down a deep lungful of air.

Roy scoped the room to check if any evidence of Snake's presence had been left. _The glass! _

Roy made a quick final dash to the table, grabbed the drinking glass and tossed it quickly into the bathroom. He heard it make a tinkering noise as it smashed on the tiles. _That'll have to do..._

Roy swallowed, and prepared himself to use his improvised lying ability to its fullest.

"Coming!" Roy called, and opened the door with a sweeping motion, making sure to place himself wholly in the threshold. Before him stood two tall, broad, armed policemen.

"Sir..."

Roy was oddly perplexed at being called 'Sir'.

"We're sorry but there's been...an accident on the floor below..."

Roy's deadpan face expressed no change in emotion, but underneath he felt a wave of shock. The unexpected relief caused him to falter in his thought processes. After the wave of reassurance had passed, Roy Campbell was filled with new doubt.

"For public safety reasons we've been forced to evacuate the building..."

Questions rushed about in his head, and he risked a glance towards the windows.

Snake could hear the mumbling of the policemen from where he hung from the balcony's edge. He had been surprised not to hear raised voices, and furniture being turned over in desperate search. Snake knew it could mean one of two things; something right, or something very, very wrong.

"Of course..." mused Roy, with a wide smile and pleasant manner, "May I gather a few of my belongings?"

"Just the valuables and the essentials, sir. All guests have to be escorted to the lobby, but we've still got a few more to tell on this floor. Grab your stuff and convene by the elevator."

The Colonel nodded, leaving the door ajar as he watched the policemen proceed down the hall. Turning his back sharply, he rushed to the balcony. Looking down, he could see Snake's brow creased in strain as he held onto the ledge.

"There's been some kind of accident. They're evacuating the hotel."

"Urrghh... .what?"

"There's no need to injure yourself, Snake. Can you get back up?"

Snake brought his feet against the side on the balcony and pushed himself up over the railing, landing crouched beside the Colonel.

_Arghh..._

Snake shook his aching arms.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know Snake. It could be a coincidence...."

Snake wandered back into the suite.

"Did they say what happened?"

Snake was ambivalent. He wasn't so sure that this 'accident' was simply a matter of wrong place wrong time.

_I don't believe in coincidences....._

"No. Only that we've got to be escorted down to the lobby. They gave me time to get a few things...."

Snake looked around the room.

"You don't have any luggage? You didn't have any luggage in the other room did you?"

Roy picked up his coat and turned to Snake with a perplexed look on his face.

"What?" he gasped, "No, I didn't take anything with me. I only had that room for the night. I was staying with a friend until I heard...well, I guessed it was safer to be somewhere a bit more populated and a lot less personal, you know, just in case. These things... have a habit of happening to me..."

Roy Campbell smiled at him, and winked.

"Always prepared, aren't you Roy?"

"Absolutely. Now let's get going..."

The two men walked down the elaborate hallway, where a young woman in a dressing gown was leaning against the wall looking extremely irritated at being roused so unexpectedly. After a moment of awkward silence between the three of them, the policemen appeared again, this time accompanied by a middle-aged business type man in a suit. Like sheep dogs, the few guests were herded into the elevator. The whole ride down, Snake kept his eyes fixed firmly on the policemen's gear. No one spoke.

The lobby was teeming with people, all talking hurriedly and worriedly amongst themselves, and trying to be calmed by police officers. After a moment, Snake and Roy realised that the officers were trying to get people outside, or usher them into the dining room. They were pushed out onto the street just as a hospital crew were entering with a stretcher.

"Roy....?"

Snake couldn't help but stare after them. He knew there was a possibility that there had been a completely unrelated accident in the hotel. It was possible. But if someone had died, surely they wouldn't evacuate the whole hotel?

_Unless, of course, this 'someone' has been murdered..._

"Don't think about it Snake. Wait till we know the facts," admonished Roy, and Snake nodded in acknowledgement, focussing his thoughts on not losing Roy amongst the throngs of people on the front steps.

Once they'd fought their way to the bottom, they found an area of space by a balustrade just big enough for them both to stand in, and Snake lit up a cigarette and breathed deep. Right now, he didn't know what to make of it all.

_Kind of anticlimactic, really. I'd been expecting a fight..._

But Snake couldn't shake the sick feeling in his stomach.

How was Otacon getting on with that data?

After a moment of breathing in the fresh evening air, and letting himself be hypnotised by cacophonic disco of flashing lights and screeching sirens, he threw his cigarette into gutter, and noticed Roy tugging on his arm. Snake looked down at him, and realised he was jerking his head towards someone leaning against the railings of a town house a little way down the street.

The boy was young; he couldn't have been older that eighteen, and he wore a black formal trousers and a white shirt, topped off with a red waistcoat with brass buttons. Snake recognised him as one of the porters who had greeted Roy at the door earlier that night. Now he was looking a lot less debonair; his waistcoat was unbuttoned, his damp shirt not tucked in, and a bent cigarette hung lifelessly from his mouth. He was texting on his phone, his face contorted in either anxiety or frustration; Snake couldn't be sure which.

Snake followed Roy and he strode boldly over to the young boy, and as he looked up, Snake saw that the boy's eyes were shaded beneath and red rimmed.

"Excuse me," said the Colonel, with an air of importance about him, "You wouldn't happen to know what's going on would you?"

The boy looked warily from Roy to Snake before reaching up to take his cigarette out of his mouth.

"Aye, I know what's wrong, mate," mumbled the boy in a strong cockney accent, obviously seeing no reason to speak formally in the current circumstances, "Bloody thing is a right mess..."

Roy walked towards him and stood by the railings. He realised that the boy was on edge. He was shivering needlessly; the night was warm.

"What's wrong, son?" asked Roy quietly and roughly, making his own voice less formal and more amiable. Snake recognised the tactic immediately; he was trying to get the boy to talk.

The boy raised his fingers to his mouth and lowered them. For a moment, Roy was taken aback, as the boy let out a hysterical laugh, then wiped his brow.

"Some couple got killed, that's what," the boy said, the pitch and volume of his voice fluctuating, "I..I saw them come in earlier in the evening...Went up there when someone next door raised the alarm....bloody.....just blood...everywhere...and I..."

The boy took a long drag of his cigarette. Roy didn't speak.

"A-and then me and the other door guy, got the receptionists to phone an ambulance. Couldn't stop shaking..I-I couldn't stop shaking...thought they were going to take me away to the men in white coats...."

The boy laughed hysterically again, and threw his cigarette away.

"_I mean...why do they bother phoning a sodding ambulance!?"_

He was literally squeaking now, and Roy reached a hand over and placed it on his shoulders, as the boy tried to furiously blink back tears.

"Some crazy _shit_, man..." he wheezed, blotting his face with his palms.

Snake saw the raw anger in his eyes. The poor lad didn't want to cry in front of two strangers, but Snake knew the affect that seeing death could have on people. His reaction was mild in comparison to some he'd seen.

Sometimes, it was easy for him to forget that some people could go though their lives without ever witnessing such a thing. In fact, now he thought about it, it was probably _most _people.

As he was pondering, he could hear someone approaching them, and turned to see a small girl with highlighted brown hair tied in a ponytail, who Snake guessed to be a waitress.

"How you holding up, mate?" she called softly, inclining forwards towards the shaking teenager.

"I-I'm fine Evie, just...gimme a minute..."

"I think you better go inside..."

The boy nodded, and stood up. Straightening out his uniform, he took a deep breath, and did up his brass buttons with the jagged movements of his shaking fingers. He checked his phone one more time, and then wiped his eyes, shuffling off in direction of the front entrance.

"Thanks for looking after him," mumbled Evie, as she was turning to leave, "He's had a nasty shock..."

"It's no problem, Miss "said Roy kindly, "But, if you don't mind me asking, what's going on?"

Evie turned back around to face them, and leaned on a column.

"Well, I'm not really supposed to say, but so long as I don't tell the neighbourhood, I suppose it doesn't matter..."

Roy smiled at her, and she returned the gesture.

"From what I gather," she began, "Some young couple kicked the bucket about twenty minutes ago. Throats cut. Apparently, whoever did it was already in the room. Perhaps stealing something, I don't know. Either way, the guy wrapped up the job pretty quick, because no one heard a scream or nothing. Apparently whoever it was knocked some furniture over or something on his way out, and that's what alerted the other guests..."

She sighed heavily

"It's like something out of Christie, this..."

Snake caught her looking at him earnestly.

"This couple..." Snake growled, remembering to do his Irish accent just in time, "Who were they? Anyone important?"

The girl shook her head.

"Not that I knew of. Just a couple on their anniversary. I know because I served them in the bistro. Just got interviewed by the police, I did. They had a nice time and decided to check if there was a room free, on the off chance of making their evening even better..."

Evie didn't laugh or smile at her own joke, just scowled at the irony. She noticed that the tall man in the odd get-up had suddenly frozen, and was staring avidly at her. She returned his glance for a moment, but he blinked and averted his gaze.

"Just one more thing...." he grunted, leaning towards her, and making her feel quite uncomfortable, "Out of interest, do you know what room it was?"

Evie stared up at Snake for a long moment, and he could see that she was suspicious of him. She frowned for a moment, before drawing herself up to her full height, which wasn't much.

"Yeah," she replied shortly, "I remember which one it was..."

She took a step back, and began to turn her back to them.

"It was Room 1015."

_No..!_

Snake's stomach twisted violently. Roy stared at him, his eyes wide with fear.

"Take care, gents," called Evie, as she strutted back to hotel doors.

Snake grabbed Roy by the arm with unnecessary force.

"Who could've known?"

"No one, Snake, I swear..."

"WHO COULD'VE KNOWN?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. _Snake, do you know what we're dealing with here!? _It's not a matter of Ocelot and Metal Gear. This is to do with _the Patriots_. It's much bigger than you might think. And If I'm right....if they know you're alive..._then you're in trouble_..."

"Who the hell are the Patriots??" Snake growled loudly, before realising that he'd be wise not to draw attention to himself.

Roy looked around him.

"Listen Snake," he whispered brusquely, "Call your friend in the States. Tell him everything that's happened. We'll discuss this later."

Roy took another nervous glance up and down the street.

"I've got something I need to do. Meet me at Waterloo in half an hour..."

The Colonel patted him on the arm, before turning on his heels and striding off down the street, still looking about him apprehensively.

Hurriedly, Snake brought out his final phone, and called Otacon's cell phone number.

"_Brooklyn Amateur Dramatics Society. Who's speaking?"_

"Otacon. How are you getting along with that data?"

"_Mei Ling's gone to the archives to get it. What's wrong Snake?...you sound..."_

"Listen," Snake interrupted, "Something's happened at the hotel. People have been murdered in the room Roy was supposed to be in. I'm not taking any chances on this one, Hal. I want to know who did it, and how they knew where I was..."

"_Dammit! I was so careful!"_

"Not careful enough, Otacon..." Snake scolded harshly, "And check up on Roy..."

"_What do you mean Snake..?"_

"Like I said. I'm not taking any chances...."

"_Right."_

"Oh, and one more thing. Find out whatever you can about 'The Patriots' , and what they have to do with me..."

On the other end of the line, Snake heard Otacon gasp.

"_The la-li-lu-le-lo!"_

"What Ocelot was talking about? What have they got to do with the Patriots, Otacon?"

_"They're one and the same Snake....Listen, Mei Ling needs me. Find out what you can from Roy, and...is this your last phone?"_

"Yeah..."

_"Then I'll call Roy's cell. Remember, 'Wrong number' if it's Netherlands, 'Sorry' and immediate hang up if it's France. Got that?"_

"Yeah."

_"Alright then. Good luck Snake."_

The final phone powered down.

* * *

**Thanks for reading :)**


	9. Unknown

**Ninth installment.**

* * *

His eyes felt like pickled onions in their sockets, stinging as he rolled them from one side of the computer screen to the other.

"_Come on, anything...anything at all..."_

Whenever he hacked somewhere he shouldn't, especially when it was the Pentagon, he always got a little jumpy. As he typed rapidly, he found his fingers shaking whenever they paused, and jerking about unsteadily whenever they didn't. Mei Ling had set out a small glass of whiskey for him, but he was unsure whether the aid it would do to his nerves would counter-balance the damage it might do to his thought processes, so it had been left untouched. Mei Ling herself was lying back on the bed in an ungainly position, the remaining cell phones scattered around her in two piles; used and unused.

"This data is very well coded...but I would've been suspicious if it wasn't. We just walked into that building..."

Mei Ling made a sound as though she was listening, and closed her eyes, enduring the cloying scent of damp as she inhaled the air of the dark little motel room.

"I got a European number, looks like Netherlands...you ready Mei Ling?"

She sat upright, and ran her hands over the covers swiftly, grabbing a phone from the unused pile, then looking around her anxiously.

"Where's my Dutch?" she asked, peering around her. Realising it had fallen off the bed, she bent down and picked up the piece of paper, scanning the rough translation that Otacon had found on the internet.

"Okay," she mumbled. Peering over Hal's should at the screen, she dialled.

"Remember, Mei Ling," Hal said apathetically, "If it's the lab, ask about security changes, and names of their clients. Anything that could be of use to us in figuring out where to find Liquid. If the place is reluctant to tell us anything, then that's probably where he is..."

Mei Ling nodded, and pressed the green phone on the keypad.

"_Goededag. Ik kom uit ASHG, Bethesda. Het spijt me, maar..."_

Hal sighed and rubbed his eyes as Mei Ling garbled out badly pronounced Dutch. It killed him to sit in the dim light, hacking this data, when a greater question plagued his mind. The night they sunk the Tanker, and Snake had mentioned the la-li-lu-le-lo, he had spent a half hour researching it, and all he had managed to find out was that it was a pseudonym for a committee more commonly referred to as 'The Patriots', and nothing more. Wherever he looked, they were only mentioned, in passing, never spoken about, and even when they _were_ mentioned it was in the deepest darkest hovels of the digital abyss. His mind had instantly begun to spin away on fantastical Illuminati-like conspiracies. The attempt on Snake's life had brought them all back to the surface again.

But it was too soon to jump to conclusions.

Right?

"Nope..." Mei Ling sighed, chucking the phone into the 'used' pile and lying back down on the bed, "We're going to run out of phones soon..."

Hal nodded, and began typing again.

"I didn't think it would be that one anyways, there's only one name by the address. I think we're just calling former employees and relatives of frozen people..."

As the evening wore on, Hal found half a dozen more numbers, and none were successful. By the time it was dark outside, they had only a handful of phones left.

"I've searched everywhere. We must have missed something..."

Mei Ling had given up on sleep. Sat against the pillows with the covers across her lap, she closed her eyes so she could doze for a little while.

"Keep looking. For anything..." she murmured listlessly.

Hal sighed. Turning his eyes back to the screen, he noticed a European phone number.

"This looks promising. _Tasia Valenza, Hepaestus Crowe, Nethanel Doe, Franklin Hunter, Natasha Marcova, Drake Madnar and Hollie Anne Black, _all under one number. No address though...but it's definitely in our area of the world..."

Mei Ling blinked twice, barely able to hear the quiet voice of her friend that seemed so distant. Glancing up, she saw that he was looking at her. Guessing that he wanted another number called, she shifted out of the bed, grabbed a phone, and went over to read the number off the screen. With slow, tired fingers, she dialled.

"_Whaddya want?"_

Mei Ling was taken aback to be spoken to in English.

"I...I'm Amanda Hodge, from the ASHG in Bethesda. I'm trying to get hold of Cyrotech Labs, or HQ of Signaal USFA."

For a moment, all was silent. Mei Ling was wondering whether the man had cut the line, when she heard roaring laughter.

"_HAHA! Oh gosh! Well, this has made my day...Amanda Hodge! Hah! Yes of __**course**__ you're Amanda Hodge from ASHG, who else would you be? Hahaha!"_

_**What the hell...?**_

Mei Ling remained silent as the man continued to laugh on the other end. Hearing the noise through the receiver, Hal looked up at Mei Ling worriedly.

_**Does this man...?**_

"_Sorry sweetheart," the gruff guy mumbled, "Didn't mean to frighten you...You're not looking for Nethanel Doe, by any chance are you? "_

"Who?"

"_Nethanel Doe." _

"Um..."

"_Well I __**can't**__ tell you how to reach him, can I? Naturally..."_

Mei Ling began to feel very uncomfortable, hoping she hadn't somehow exposed them.

"Mei Ling," Hal hissed, "What's going on!?"

She glared at him, bringing her index finger to her lips.

"Who are you?!" she barked into the receiver, but her outcry was returned with only more laughter.

"_Listen I can't tell you. No, no, no way I can't tell you. There's no way I can give you any details at all. Sorry. Would you excuse me a minute?"_

Mei Ling detected a hint of facetiousness is the mystery man's voice.

"Of course..." she said hesitantly, and she heard the man get up, and carpet rustling as he moved about.

After a moment, she could hear him muttering faintly.

"Oh...one...eight...nine...one more time? Ah...hope no one can hear me..."

_**He's reading out a number.**_

Hurriedly she dashed around Otacon, and grabbed a piece of hotel paper.

"Nine...four..."

"PEN!" she hissed loudly, and Hal handed her the one that was stationed behind his ear, still looking anxious.

Mei Ling listened as he repeated the number, and scribbled it down on the pad.

After a moment, she heard the man walking back over to her.

"_Yeah so, like I was telling you," _he grunted,_ "There's no way I could give you any details. You know, what you overhear is one thing, but don't hope to get anything out of me. I know nothing about any of this. What you do with whatever you find out is up to you entirely. Okay? So don't bother me anymore lady...because I can't tell you nothing."_

Mei Ling could hear the man stifling a laugh.

"Of course. I completely understand," said Mei Ling, playing along, "I won't bother you again..."

"_Make sure you don't..."_

"One more thing though...what's your name?"

Raucous laughter answered her question, and she sighed in exasperation.

"_Yeah...my name is Mr U N Owen. Good luck to you, Ms. Hodge..."_

Mei Ling heard one more chuckle before he hung up the phone. Pen still in her hand, she wrote down the name, and tossed the phone onto the bed.

Hal turned in his chair, looking as though he was about to burst with anticipation.

"Who was that? What happened!?"

Mei Ling sat on the bed, looking at the piece of paper in her hands.

"Whoever that guy was, Hal, he knew that I wasn't who I said I was..."

Otacon looked at her gravely.

"Who was he?"

Mei Ling looked down at her scrawled handwriting.

"Mr. U N Owen."

Hal took the piece of paper out of her hand.

"This number..." he began, "It's a postcode for Toulouse..."

Hal put the note on the table, and turned to see Mei Ling staring blankly ahead.

"Nethenal..." she murmured to herself, "Nethenal Doe...what's about that name...?"

Otacon turned his head around to check the screen.

"That was one of the names on our list..."

"You think it means anything?"

"Well," Otacon began, "I heard that Big Boss used to call himself John Doe when he was on missions, as a kind of joke..."

Mei Ling shook her head. That was a link. But it wasn't close enough. Nethanel. Where had she heard that before?

"In any case," Otacon began, "We've got a lead now...but...How do we know it'll take us to Liquid?"

Mei Ling shook her head.

"That guy on the phone...wondered if I was looking for Nethanel Doe...Sounded like he'd been bothered about it before..."

Mei Ling gasped, and turned towards Otacon with a sudden burst of energy.

"Nethanel was the brother of David!"

Otacon looked at her.

"King David?" he asked, puzzled.

"Yeah..."

Hal's face lit up.

"Yes! That's it. They needed a name right? One they could trace. Who would know that Big Boss called himself 'John Doe', or that Snake's name is 'David' ? They gave him a name that meant nothing unless you knew what you were doing..."

"Who's 'they'?" asked Mei Ling.

"The la-li-lu-le-lo."

"The who?"

Otacon jumped up and grabbed the crumpled bit of hotel paper he'd just put down.

"Never mind," he said hurriedly, "Just call Snake and tell him to get to Toulouse."

Mei Ling nodded, a smile suddenly materialising on her tired face, and her sullen spirits were raised momentarily as she procured a phone. She dialled, and Otacon sat back down in his chair, a feeling of relief and unease coming over him simultaneously.

"U N Owen..." he muttered aloud, pausing for thought. He let his mind flow over the syllables, and stopped before he took his next breath, realising.

"Or to the suspicious mind..."

"_**...Unknown..."**_

* * *

Waterloo was quiet. The miniature versions of high street shops were shut and had sheets of corrugated iron pulled down over their entrances. This early, there were only small crowds of arrivals and departures, and they were either groups of foreign schoolchildren who seemed to have just endured thirty six hour coach and train journeys, or rough looking Londoners with drab clothes and unshaven faces, who travelled alone. Sat on a seat in front of an empty cafe, Snake was sure he was beginning to look like one of them. Every time he thought about lighting a cigarette, he reluctantly reminded himself of the red and white sign on the wall above him.

_Who cares if I smoke?_

Snake was tempted, but he didn't want one of the poor hesitant staff to have to come over and politely remind him of the cigarette etiquette. The less attention he drew to himself, the better.

_How long has it been?_

He wasn't sure. Through his brief time at the station, he had revived his old interest of people watching. In Alaska, it wasn't very easy to do. In New York it was better, but when there were so many people passing quickly, he didn't have time to form an opinion of them. Here, however, he had managed to sit and dissect the human form, trying to guess people's ages and nationalities, their jobs and personalities; something he had refrained from doing previously in his life. The less you knew about someone on the battlefield, the easier they were to kill.

_BRING._

Far off in the distance, Snake heard Big Ben chime. It was 7.A.M. It's been a lot longer than he'd thought. He decided he must have fallen asleep.

Although briefly distracted by thoughts of what he had been doing twenty four hours previously, Snake noticed a black taxi cab pulling by the front entrance. As he suspected, he saw the dark overcoat of Roy Campbell climb out and stroll casually though the glass doors. It didn't take him long to walk over to Snake's bench and sit down beside him.

"I want answers..."

The Colonel turned away, avoiding Snake's eyes.

"_Who are they Roy!?"_

Campbell looked haggard and tired. He breathed deep and rubbed his brow, trying to calm himself.

"Not here," he said quietly, looking around them, "Not now..."

"NO!" Snake barked, causing the staff to look at them, and whisper quietly to one another. Snake turned his back away from the entrance, and drew closer to Roy.

"I need to know I can trust you, Roy," Snake hissed, "After Shadow Moses, I've learned that even a dear old friend can keep secrets when he needs to. How loyal is the starving dog, Roy? I've lived with them for a long time, and the answer is not very loyal at all..."

"Snake!" Campbell whispered pleadingly.

"No. Where have you been all night? You went to contact someone, right? Who was it? What do you have to hide from me this time, Roy?"

Roy's face was contorted with fear and trepidation. He leaned forward and grabbed Snake's arm, looking straight into his eyes.

"Meryl," he said simply, "I was just checking she was safe. I went to my friend's house to call. I told her to be careful. That's it Snake, I swear."

Snake could believe that all too easily. It was very plausible, but Snake was reluctant to accept it.

"Was she okay?"

Snake immediately regretted asking. He was certain that Roy had seen the sadness in his eyes, the regret. He'd broken his resolve and showed a weaker part of him. A better part of him.

Campbell was relieved that Snake seemed a little less angry, and nodded.

"Yes, she's fine. That girl never panics..."

A shrill tune echoed around the station. Roy turned and reached his hand into his coat pocket. Pulling out his old cell phone, he glanced at the screen.

"Unknown number..."

"Answer it," said Snake, and Roy complied.

Roy held the phone to his ear for a moment, before pulling it down and looking at the screen in confusion.

"Odd...they just said 'Sorry' and hung up...Does that mean anything..?"

Snake stood up, throwing his bag over his shoulder and straightening his clothes.

"Yeah," he murmured, "It means 'get your ass to France'..."

* * *

**If you get the 'And then there were None' reference then kudos to you :)**

**Thanks for reading.**


	10. Chummer

**Gar! I'll admit, its my longest time between updates. I can only suggest that it is due to the crazyass life I lead. **

**Anyways, I'm into double digits now! XD**

**Thanks to all my readers, hope yo enjoy this.**

* * *

A single light bulb flickered on and off incessantly, as the boat was tossed from one side to another against high waves and fast winds. Below deck, it was wet and dark, as Snake nestled himself between the freezers that emitted the pungent aroma of fish. Every now and again the boat would sway, the contents of the cabin would shake, and his head would collide with something hard. As the journey continued, his perception had become more and more hazy. The flickering light and the bruises on his head were making him delirious.

_After this week, it's official. I hate boats. _

Fast flowing visions began to spawn in his head, and he was suddenly clad in his sneaking gear and bandana, struggling to stand as explosions ripped through a large ship. Ocelot's cold eyes were on his lids.

He remembered being tossed about on the dingy whilst the Tanker was sinking, and was glad that he wasn't out there today, at the mercy of the English Channel. Despite that, attempts to sleep had been futile. Snake could no longer remember how long ago it was that they had left Dover. Roy had rushed him down to the south coast upon leaving Waterloo, and Snake ended up forking over most of his pounds to get the fisherman to stop over in France. By this point, it was becoming glaringly obvious that he wasn't a History Lecturer on sabbatical, but these were ordinary fishermen, with little terraced houses and kids to feed. Snake knew the type of guy; they weren't the fantasists who wanted to get involved. A bit of money would be all it took to keep them from asking questions. He wasn't going to need it now anyways, so long as he clung onto the rest of his luggage.

Snake clutched about in the dark for his satchel bag. In one of the infrequent fleeting seconds in which the light was on, he managed to grab it and hold it to his chest. Opening it, he double checked all the weapons and monies. All was in order.

The long ride in partial darkness had given him ample time to sweat over the uninvited guest in Room 1015. He had gone over the possibilities several times.

_Either someone has been monitoring Philanthropy long term..._

_...._

_...._

_Maybe the dash from the Tanker gave away our position to...who? _

_..._

_..._

_The la-li-lu-le-lo....?_

_..._

_Either that....._

_...._

_..._

_Or Roy caved._

Snake didn't like to think about any of those possibilities. Placing his head on his knees, he closed his eyes, and let exhaustion overcome him.

* * *

"Sugar?"

Roy awakened from his reverie, and looked up to see the hostess leaning over his table a cup. She tilted her head towards him and smiled sweetly. _Half your age, Roy..._

"No, thank you..." Roy smiled back politely and accepted his tea, before turning his head to look out of the train window. The hostess trundled away with her trolley, and he returned to watching England roll by, as the sun began to slide above the horizon. Roy noticed that the sky was laced with dark pink streaks, as he slowly sipped his brew.

"Shepherd's warning..." he mumbled, inhaling a lungful of steam and breathing out slowly. He listened as the melodic voice of the hostess continued down the train, offering beverages, before it disappeared into another carriage. There was barely anyone else aboard; just a few commuters, with their laptops out on the table, typing away placidly.

_None of these people know that right now, they are being watched..._

Roy shuddered, and thought it best not to think about the current predicament. He couldn't jump to conclusions about The Patriots. Not yet. Though the evidence was convincing; they'd found out what room he had been staying in, after all.

Desperate to find a distraction, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, and dialled the number for his house. She'd been annoyed when he phoned last night; if there's one thing his daughter couldn't handle, it was being kept out of the loop.

He breathed quietly as he listened to it ring, and as every ring went by, his heartbeat quickened with panic, until he heard her soft voice in his ear.

"_White knuckles much, Roy?"_

He couldn't help but smile.

"I figured that it was best to let you know the score, is all..."

"_Shoot."_

She was going to be difficult, he could tell.

"I've just been down to Dover port; I'm heading up to... I can't remember where...some town...to meet the scientist...."

"_Okay. Thanks for filling me in. But that's not what I wanted to know..."_

Roy could tell from the slight husky tone in her voice that she was tired; he liked to think she had done the sensible thing, and stayed up all night.

"I can't tell you _why_ Meryl..."the Colonel hissed, "Trust me. I put David on a boat to France. Hopefully, this will all be sorted out within twenty four hours...hopefully..."

He sighed in defeat, trying not to sound so pitifully helpless.

"_How is he?"_

Roy's sullen features twisted into a grin, remembering with amusement how Snake had asked a simliar question in the same sheepish tone. For a moment, Roy couldn't remember why they weren't still together.

_Then again, I don't think I ever really knew. _Their relationship was something that he had long been kept in the dark about.

"He was fine last time I saw him. Probably being tossed about across the channel right now..."

She forced a chuckle. Laughter seemed inappropriate, but nonetheless it was necessary, to relieve tension if nothing else.

"_Whilst you're riding first class, I assume..."_

"Of course."

Roy, for a moment, felt guilty that he was always the one sat in the comfy chair, whilst the grunts were the ones out there putting their lives on the line. Then again, he hardly thought it fair to think of Snake as a 'grunt'.

"Meryl, being serious, there's a high chance you're in serious danger..."

"_I've got my gun..." _

Roy smiled.

"That's what I like to hear."

He was about to continue admonishing Meryl to keep herself safe, when a pleasant female voice announced a familiar name over the tannoy. He checked the time on his watch. It would be quite a while before Dr. Emmerich arrived here too.

"I've got to go. Trust me, by this time tomorrow it will all make sense, just..."

"_Don't run with strangers, talk to matches or play with scissors?"_

"You know what I mean. I'm sorry I'm keeping you here like this, I know you were supposed to have gone by now, but..."

"_I don't have anywhere to go anyway Roy."_

"No, well. Just make sure you're there when I get back..."

She hung up the phone without saying goodbye; a lifelong trait of hers. She often forgot that it seemed a brash thing to do, but he couldn't blame her for finding goodbyes unfavourable.

Roy alighted the train, and found himself on a quiet platform lined with green benches and potted plants. Sitting down, he breathed in the fresh air and closed his eyes.

_And now we wait._

* * *

The onslaught of fear had brought Mei Ling and Otacon severely down to earth with a thud. The business with the mysterious Mr. Owen, had left them shaken, but Hal had not had time to look into it further. As soon as Mei Ling had told Snake where to go, the pair had packed up their things and set out to find their pilot. The car taking them was hired through one of Otacon's contacts, but the thing was a rickety four by four with blacked out windows that made them both feel queasy.

For most of the ride, Otacon had sat staring vaguely at the screen of one of Mei Ling's fake phones, wondering what he could do with it. A few times, he had typed the number of their mystery helper, and then deleted it again in a lapse of confidence.

By the time the sun was up, the pair had boarded the same tiny plane that Snake had been on the previous day, now refuelled and rejuvenated. As the noisy machine trundled across the skies, Mei Ling gripped Snake's bandana between her fingers.

_Where are you, Snake?_

She rubbed the dark material with her thumb and forefinger, before wrapping it around her hand and wrist, as though preparing for a fight.

_It won't help me in this battle..._

Forgetting herself for a moment, she drifted off into the hazy limbo between consciousnesses, never truly awake or asleep. Sometimes, she would hear what sounded like Snake, crying out in pain. Other times, she would merely see her own hands folded in her lap. One moment, she noticed a faint green glow across from her, and looked up to see Otacon looking at one of her phones with his eyes wide. Suddenly, the light was gone.

"_What is it?" _she mouthed across to her friend, who was looking suddenly pale.

He just shook his head. Mei Ling didn't know if his nonchalance was real or not, but she was drifting back into her sleep once again, and didn't have the energy to argue any further. As she began to close her eyes, she saw Otacon put his head in his hands.

She could've sworn she heard a quiet, musical sob. Or maybe it was the Snake of her dreams, screaming out to her again.

* * *

**Thank you for reading!**


	11. Inter Mission

_**INTERMISSION**_

* * *

The warm spring sunrise descended on the valley in one fell swoop, and the soft canvas binds fluttered in a delicate wave. A looming figure was waiting behind the open window, his fading silhouette illuminating as the sun slowly rose, though to him it seemed like barely any time at all. Suddenly, or maybe it happened gradually, the breeze disappeared, and the whole landscape before him was still, not a rustle in the green bushes, or a bird in the azure blue sky.

Greg Kuross looked over his legacy with reverence. His cabin on hillside had a perfect view; before him, the valley sloped, thick with bushes and saplings, seeming almost endless, until they were abruptly halted by a large concrete wall, which ran the perimeter of the compound. To think, it was almost his.

Breathing out, he decided that all to be seen had been seen, and turned back into his living room, shuffling across and pouring himself a drink from last night's purge. It was nine A.M. Ten years ago, he would've cringed at the thought of drinking this early in the day. Heck, fifteen years ago, he'd have cringed at the thought of drinking at all.

He didn't care anymore. He was once proprietor and manager of a very successful testing facility, until two years ago, when someone had offered more money than he could ever refuse to retire early, and foolishly, he had accepted. Half way through proceedings, he decided it wasn't what he wanted, and tried to cancel. He remembered being 'politely' told that there was no way it was possible. Now, he needed a clearance pass to leave and enter his own land, sign forms whose contents were unknown to him, and was not allowed to move out. Back in Michigan, he'd been around his friends and family, well respected. Now he was stuck in this dusty cabin alone, in a country where hardly anyone spoke his language.

_Shoulda got married, Kuross. _

Sitting down in his reclining chair, he eyed his bookcase, reading every spine to make sure he'd read them all. He had. Pausing for thought, he wondered how his little cabin had got so dirty. He'd cleaned it...yesterday? No, longer than that. But...

He couldn't remember yesterday. But his arms and legs ached. With a sudden spurt of fear, he realized that it wasn't a drinking induced lapse of memory. He really couldn't remember waking up yesterday. The last thing he remembered was the day they came to the door. When was that? They hadn't wanted anything had they? But surely, that was weeks ago...Why couldn't he remember?

Perhaps he should get a bus into the city? He decided he was too tired, and instead, sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, dozing quietly. Suddenly, he opened one.

He was sure the place was bugged. He didn't know where the cameras were. Sometimes he spent hours looking for them, but never to any avail. They'd be well placed, that was for sure. Sometimes at night, he would swear that he could hear the lenses adjusting, or people in his living room. Then he would just tell himself it was the boredom and the captivity making him paranoid. That had to be it.

He was too hot.

_They're watching you. Remember that time, when they showed up at your door..._

He pulled the neckline of his shirt back and forth, swirling air against his sweating chest.

_Don't open your eyes. _

Was that the breeze returning?

_They think you're sleeping. _

He stretched his legs our further.

_They'll move the cameras. _

This headache needs to go...

_Listen for the noises._

It was far, far too hot. And he was losing it.

A week ago, or maybe it was two, he had gone into the city. After eating at a crepe house, he had tried to call his mother from a payphone. He didn't get an answer. He'd gone to every payphone on every other street and tried again. He didn't know why he did it. It was silly thing to do; now he thought about it. Not only that, but his mother had moved away from the old family home about five years ago. He flew out there to help her move. But he didn't realize that day. When he got home after his trip out, he was going to cry, and then decided not to. Why not, again? He couldn't remember...It was too hot.

Far too hot.

Maybe it didn't happen. Thinking about it, it seemed like an unlikely thing.

A shrill noise sounded in the cabin, and it filled him with ominous dread for a reason he couldn't quite pinpoint.

He never used that phone. Back when he had first started working out here, he had only ever had a cell. The new managers of his facility had installed that landline.

Greg let it ring for a moment, wondering whether it was real, or in his head. After a moment, he decided that it was either real or one hell of a persistent hallucination, so he got up and walked over to the desk.

"Hello?"

His voice was raw and croaky. When had he used it last?

"_Is that Cryotech? I need to check up on some patient details..."_

Kuross let the woman talk for a little while before interrupting her.

"No, no, no lady. Listen, I'm just the proprietor, you got the wrong number. I just sign forms, I don't manage the place. What goes on down there is nothing to do with me..."

The woman's tone suddenly became very grave.

"_They said you'd be frosty about this. Mr Nethanel Doe, I need to check on. We have reason to believe that there was a security breach in our headquarters earlier on today. I waited until a reasonable hour in France..."_

"How considerate of you..."

"_The government has expressed concern that data involving this person could be in the wrong hands..."_

He guffawed loudly.

"The government? You sure about that, lady?"

"_What?"_

"I dunno. I'm probably drunk."

"_...Who are you?"_

"You called me! Who the hell are _**you**_?"

"_I'm Amanda Hodge, from ASHG in Bethesda..."_

Her tone was suddenly not so defiant; Greg thought perhaps he might be scaring her a little, and smiled to himself.

"Well," he spat, "_Amanda. _I can tell you that I know nothing about any of this _shit_. You have the wrong number. You want main labs. The extension is -014."

Over the line, he heard the lady sigh.

"_Right, thank you, Mr..."_

"Bloggs. Joe Bloggs."

"_Okay...Thanks again. Good day."_

He put the phone down, and laughed loudly. That would give the listeners some light entertainment.

Stumbling around, he finished off last night's bottle, and collapsed down into his chair again, smiling to himself in the bright, open room. After a moment's thought, he realize he might've said something he shouldn't have. How else did they expect him to explain to that woman? Then again, maybe dropping them in it would be a good thing. Let everyone know what their dirty little secrets were, whatever they were. The worst they could do was kill him. And this was no life.

Maybe he fell asleep. Maybe he just got lost in drunken thought.

Because the most peculiar thing happened.

The phone rang again.

_Not real this time, surely? _Nonetheless, it was. It didn't make any sense. Then he wondered if this was the _real_ call, and he imagined the one that happened before. Was it already a whole hour ago? Or a whole day?

Stumbling slightly, he hauled himself out of his chair again, annoyed at being disturbed twice. He snatched up the phone.

"Whaddya want?!"

For a moment, he heard nothing but quick breaths.

"_I...I'm Amanda Hodge, from the ASHG in Bethesda. I'm trying to get hold of Cyrotech Labs, or HQ of Signaal USFA."_

This was certainly in support of his _real_ call theory, but the voice was off. The high pitched Asian American accent was unfamiliar. The girl stuttered over the syllables of her own name. How very odd...

It was pretty overwhelming, and so he laughed. Roared. He couldn't understand what was real and what wasn't. Who was who, what was what. Where his mother lived.

"OH GOSH!"

He couldn't stop. His insides were burning. He hadn't laughed like this in years

"Well, this has made my day..."

Tears were forming. It was too hot.

"Amanda Hodge!"

The girl on the other end was silent.

"Hah! Yes of **course** you're Amanda Hodge from ASHG, who else would you be?"

Greg had to put his hand on the desk to steady himself as he continued to laugh. The room was beginning to spin. Perhaps this girl was a little scared of him also.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Didn't mean to frighten you..."

Still quiet.

"You're not looking for Nethanel Doe, by any chance?"

"_Who?"_

"Nethanel Doe."

"_Um..."_

Didn't this girl read the script? It would have to take a little more effort on his part.

"Well I **can't** tell you how to reach him, can I? Naturally..."

He was going to drop them in it. As soon as he did, he was going to sober up, get a bus to the city, and be away. Run for it.

It would all be okay.

"_Who are you?!_" the shrill voice barked. He laughed again, barely able to remember his real name.

"Listen I can't tell you. No, no, no way I can't tell you. There's no way I can give you any details at all. Sorry."

They were listening. Maybe he could slow them down.

"Would you excuse me a minute?"

"_Of course..."_

What was the address? He'd written it down. After a short scramble, he found the sheet. They would only need the postcode, right? He remembered going to a post office once. They had taken his details. He'd given them his postcode, and somehow they'd know the exact address. That's what it was for, he guessed. It was strange he remembered it. Slowly, he read the number aloud, slurring his words.

Closing his eyes drowsily, he chanted the number. For a moment, he felt slightly sober. After a moment of enjoying his sudden clarity, he went back to the phone.

""Yeah so, like I was telling you. There's no way I could give you any details. You know, what you overhear is one thing, but don't hope to get anything out of me. I know nothing about any of this. What you do with whatever you find out is up to you entirely. Okay? So don't bother me anymore lady...because I can't tell you nothing."

He knew he was rambling. It was most definitely the drink.

""_Of course. I completely understand_," said the girl's melodic sing-song voice, "I _won't bother you again..._"

"Make sure you don't..."

"_One more thing though...what's your name?"_

Greg couldn't believe how she had the nerve. He laughed loudly.

"Yeah..."

"My name is U N Owen. Good luck to you, Ms. Hodge."

Still holding back laughter, he slammed the phone down with unnecessary force, and stumbled backward. He landed sat upright on his rug, and rolled over to his side, still laughing.

He was far too drunk to get the bus, and he knew it. Sooner or later they would know; they would listen back over the tapes and hear what he had said. Someone would be over there, listening. Realizing that he'd given away the address to someone impersonating a person who they couldn't possibly be. He wasn't one for conspiracy theories. He remembered arguing with his brother once, because the young lad was certain the human race had never been to the moon. Greg had held his ground. _It's not good to be too cynical..._

But this...

What were they doing down there that was so secret? That he had all the money in the world and no means of spending it?

With a slight sigh of dismay, Greg realized he was unable to get up. Laying back on his back, the image of a small plane landing flashed into his head. Armed guards.

He remembered yesterday. Why was there blood?

And laughed again.

He could hear the steps.

Only a few people.

There was a loud hammering on the door.

Had he fallen asleep?

It was getting late.

Better get the door.

But he didn't need to.

The door fell in, with a loud bang.

Greg looked up from where he lay on the floor, to see a heavily armed man with a ram, and another man, hazy. The silver shining end of a gun appeared in the periphery of his vision.

"Hello, Mr Kuross..."

Greg still lay spread-eagled on the floor, looking up, but not really seeing whoever was there.

The images ran past in his mind.

He remembered yesterday.

He remembered his mother's address.

_You're probably going to die, Greg..._

_Shoulda got married..._

He thought it was the end. He was sure of it.

Then the most peculiar thing happened.

_The phone rang._

But he didn't care.


	12. Everywhere and Nowhere

**After a short, meaningful pause....**

* * *

He faced a giant concrete wall.

Snake remembered, some several years back in 2003, hearing about a heat wave in Europe that killed fifteen thousand French people. At the time, from where he was housed in Alaska, it had seemed a feat too distant to realize. Now he was here, in the heart of the French climate, he could see why.

A burst of Mediterranean weather had hit a little too far north, which he learned from the newspaper he bought on the Corail Téoz, after a brief twenty minutes in the capital to wash up after hitchhiking from Calais. It had caused the unmistakable tropical style storm on the sea, and the blistering hot weather he experienced on his journey south. Inside the cabin of the train, in which he spent an agonizing five hours, it was humid, and oases of sweat seemed to pool on his palms and the back of his neck.

However, the thoughts that plagued him the most were not those of his hygiene; Snake felt a great discomfort at being disconnected from his team. It would be them who found out the answers. Would they have time to get them to him?

Probably not.

Toulouse had turned out to be an ornate city. He stepped upon the cobbles as though he walked through and antique model town. The architecture enthralled him, and yet, the audacious modernity that lined the walls in the form of ambitious graffiti complimented the older style buildings in a way he had not seen before, or at least not in a very long time.

New York was a rat's nest. Alaska was a desert.

If he had more time, he would've enjoyed it more, but he knew upon arriving that the place he was looking for would not be in the midst of the city. He also knew that no one around him would know where to find a cryogenics facility. Instead, he decided to ask people about roads out of town, and scenic, natural areas.

After a few hours, he had wrested enough information from the conservative denizens of Toulouse to set upon his endeavour out of the city.

His search was productive.

And so, he was faced with a concrete wall.

In his perfected cricket pitch, he bowled his bag over arm, which was now plus his clothes and absent his weapons. As the sun went down behind him, Snake was grateful for the lack of light, as he would not want to be seen by a civilian clad in his sneaking gear and fully armed. Then again, he couldn't imagine there being any out here in this desert. They'd have to be lost.

And yet, when he vaulted the concrete wall with his trademark dexterity, he saw, in the last of the light, what looked like a small house, complete with lights on and smoking chimney.

_Charming. _

"But it's not right..."

He crawled, stealthy, low through the shrubs on the hillside. Somewhere, down in the darkening black into the valley, there were more lights, shimmering eerily and appearing further into the distance than they probably were. That would be where his brother was. Somewhere down there.

The darkness descended upon the valley with a great speed, sweeping hastily as though someone drew a thick black sheet across the heavens. Snake tried to make as little sound as possible, the scuffing of his shoes against the shrubs the only noise he made.

After a moment of scrambling across the undergrowth, Snake found himself stood a short distance from the ominous house. Tying his bag firmly to the branch of a tree, he made the final dash towards the building, and stood with his back to the wall by the front door.

_Wide Open?_

In the silence of the evening, he listened for a sound from within the house. Nothing.

Whose place was it anyways? It seemed a little too big to be a cosy guardhouse.

He inhaled, and turned. His arms rose up automatically to bring his gun in front of his face, pointing it blindly into the darkness.

He could see nothing.

But he knew the smell all too well.

Swiftly, he grabbed a small flashlight from within the folds of his suit and held it above his gun. Shining the light across the room, he saw bottles of liquor scattered, books open on the floor with pages flapping in the draft, and the contents of a desk spilled out in all directions. The place had been ransacked.

A document fluttered down nearly inches from his feet. Shining his torch above it, he saw that its contents were obscured by a dark mark. A red mark.

The piece of paper left a trail behind it. A dark shadow. Lying across the rug.

He ran to the windows, closing the blinds so as to let as little light through, and felt for a switch. The room was dimly illuminated.

Standing over the body, he saw the man had suffered several shots to the body, and one to the head. Unnecessary brutality.

This man's life seemed to be worth very little to whoever had felt the pleasure of taking it. The guy didn't look like a military man. He didn't look like an intellectual either. Snake thought he looked like the kind of guy you'd see sat a desk in one of those humdrum insurance companies that never really took off. Small town guy. Occasional smoker. Regular drinker. They usually had names like Larry, Simon, Bill and Bob.

All in all, he seemed, very ordinary. Almost too ordinary. Snake was amused at the idea. Too ordinary to be murdered? Was there such a thing?

He had nothing in his pockets, no labels on his clothes. The man himself was unremarkable looking. A blue bottle lay just without of his hand's grasp.

Scanning the room, Snake spotted a coat and a bag on a peg by the door. The coat was the same as the clothes; empty pockets, labels cut off. Throwing it aside he tore the bag off the peg and felt from its weight there was something inside.

He turned it upside down and watched the contents spill out onto the carpet, before crouching to inspect them.

A half drunk bottle of water.

An empty sandwich packet.

A newspaper.

"_The Guardian."_

_What?_

"Britons Face Killer Heatwave"

And in the sub-article.

"Marine Tanker Sinks on the Hudson"

A British newspaper.

He'd seen it on the stands when he arrived at Waterloo. He recognised the picture.

"What...the...?"

He felt the breeze tickle his shaven head, and remembered he had left the door ajar. Turning around, he noticed something else hanging from the peg.

A security pass.

"Greg Kuross..."

Snake looked over to the corpse. Middle-aged. Slightly overweight. Greying hair. Unremarkable.

Completely unremarkable.

And yet a complete mystery.

Some horrible instinctive sense was making him very aware that this man was a civilian.

He could just tell.

Hardened men didn't die looking so pathetic. Greg looked like a seal's corpse washed up on the shore. A round decaying mass that people stood downwind of. Snake imagined that this man was much the same in life as in death.

But it was never good to imagine about dead people. Snake didn't know him, so there was no point trying to pretend that he did. Could be a complete bastard for all he knew.

_Can't feel sorry for him. Civilian or no civilian._

However, one thing seemed certain. Someone who'd been here had been to London yesterday.

Or maybe this was all part of the 'plan'. Maybe this was the la-li-lu-le-lo, his unknown adversaries, trying to play with his mind.

The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. That was their key strength; anonymity. They were everywhere and nowhere. Roy had called this whole scenario "bigger than he might think". Bigger than Ocelot. Bigger than the huge pile of political shit that was Metal Gear. That whole intangible web of lies...

Switching the lights off again, he returned the items to Greg's bag so as to leave the scene looking a little less disturbed, and made to leave. As he placed one large gloved hand on the back of the door, he heard something click. A short, sharp sound. Faint. But so familiar.

A shutter.

Slowly he turned around, looking up into the corners of the room and brandishing his flashlight.

"A surveillance camera?"

There was no sign of one.

Not in the corners, not on the sidelights, not on the shelves.

And then he saw it, in a vague blur whilst turning his head. Spotted in a panoramic swirl so that he couldn't tell where it was. That faint iridescent green glow that reflects off an anti-glare lens. So small it was, that Snake wasn't quite sure he'd seen it, but it was there.

He didn't have time to find it.

He didn't have time to shoot it.

He ran blindly out of the house.

* * *


	13. Post-Politics

**I could make a long list of reasons why I haven't updated this in a long time, but I'm not going to. My life is a lot different now than when I started this (I'm currently living in China, temporarily) and things are always changing. **

**Nonetheless I am going to continue writing this, for my own closure if nothing else.**

**So if you're still interested, then enjoy :) **

* * *

"Earhgh...!"

Otacon let out a fearful yelp as the black barrel of a gun flew up and hovered a few inches away from his nose.

"Calm down!" hissed the Colonel, as he pushed Hal through the ornate front door into a baroque hallway, where a tall redhead was replacing a handgun in its holster.

"Gee, Hal, " she sighed, "I forgot how noisy you are..."

Otacon let out a nostalgic smile. She hadn't changed much, although he'd never seen her dressed so casually, in just a pair of jeans and a vest top. Her hair was longer and wavy, tied on the side so that it flowed down over her left shoulder, revealing a little earring dangling from her right ear. She looked thinner than he remembered.

Roy was abruptly followed by an overloaded and equally fatigued Mei Ling, who carried her gym bag and a large suitcase. The young woman was glancing from face to face, looking anxious and preoccupied. The colonel held out his hand to help her, and she handed him her gym bag.

"Through here," Meryl whispered, tapping a door on the left further down the hall, "I've cleared some space for you to set up..."

Otacon hurried past her, fumbling around in the dim light. Mei Ling followed, giving Meryl a brief hug before being ushered through the door.

"Did you lock the doors and windows?" Roy asked, his voice displaying his evident exhaustion.

"Yes..." the Redhead replied, irritated.

"Did you turn all the outside lights off?"

"Yes..."

"Did you unplug the phone?"

Meryl just looked at him, an underlying air of malice in her annoyed glare.

"I was just testing you..." Roy said, a small smirk appearing on his lips. The young woman did not return the animosity, scowling at the noise that the scientists were making in the other room. When her eyes moved back him, Roy's heart twisted at the distrust that he saw there. Their relationship had been fraught for a long time; she had her days, when she'd greet him with a half-smile in the morning and then proceed to be civil to him for a while. Other days, she was not so generous. Roy often despaired of the situation, because although she hated him, he loved her, and she had nowhere else to go. Roy deliberately spent a lot of time in London now; he grew weary of the tortuous emotional stalemate in his own home.

"You look beat, old man," she murmured, noticing Campbell's haggard eyes and arched back with a look of disdain.

He wandered past her, to the staircase at the end of the corridor.

"I'm going to have a lie down...Those two will be able to explain everything to you. If you need anything, call me."

He looked worriedly towards the door.

"And keep a wide eye open..."

With that, he disappeared, and Meryl let out a long sigh.

"Better put on a pot of coffee..." she wondered aloud.

* * *

His back pressed against a solid wall, Snake trailed the outside of the main building. Finding a way in was proving more difficult than usual. Always, when infiltrating, the best bet was to look for the air ducts, but they were too high up here. The whole edifice was a solid block with a few holes in for windows; the architecture was infuriatingly uncomplicated. No, after much thought, Snake decided that he had to get in using more traditional methods. Approaching one of the windows he leaned around, and peeked through.

A long corridor, very modern, with white walls and floors. There were one or two men in labcoats pacing around, none of whom looked particularly busy. Snake eyed the one closest to him. Tall, Caucasian, and his clothes seemed to provide unnecessary padding. There was a bulge on the side of his hip, which he guessed indicated a holster. They were scientists, but they were armed.

_This is definitely the place. _

Snake traced the perimeter, and saw what appeared to be a road leading from the outer wall to the building, some small way off into the distance. He crept along, bent over and treading carefully, aware each little sound his footfalls made on the scraggy ground. He wasn't used to being exposed like this – his missions had largely involved him exploring a very well-developed complex of buildings, darting through halls and crawling through narrow passages – he hadn't had the privilege of being in the open air for quite a while. Living in New York had made him partially agoraphobic; even the ice fields of Alaska were beginning to seem somewhat unappealing.

He was relieved a little when he spotted what appeared to be some kind of electric substation perched on the side of slope, and headed towards it. As he did so, he heard a loud _clunk_ echo around the enclosure. Squatting low, he looked around, and saw the metal gate on the outer wall suddenly become floodlit. It was creaking open.

_Shit._

He scampered along the ground, staying as low as possible before diving behind the substation. He peaked around to observe the gate. Two armoured cars were moving through the opening, and as the first one continued towards the complex, lights along the road illuminated its path.

_An important visitor._

It was heading towards a large metal door, which was rising slowly. It had to be the only way in – there didn't seem to be any other opening in the building. Grabbing the opportunity, he dived into the undergrowth and landed in prone position. He grasped the scraggy earth, pulling himself along hastily, trying to remain low so as not to be seen by the entourage. When it passed him, he pulled himself up and began to run. The first of the cars was proceeding through the opening. He ran fast, focussing on the sounds and lights. When the second car went through, the door creaked and began to close. Picking up the pace, Snake lunged forward and rolled towards the door.

His head hit something hard – a concrete floor. He looked up to see vehicles parked all the way down a large warehouse. The door clanged shut behind him, and he became aware that he was exposed in a well-lit area with the enemy emerging from the vehicles nearby. He spied some large crates against the wall and he crawled his way toward them. Crouching and hiding, he poked his head out to try to get a look at the new arrival. Whoever he was, he was swamped by armed guards - Snake could only see the top of his head – Caucasian, grey hair, in his fifties at a guess.

_Best to steer clear – he's not what I'm here for. _

He watched as the entourage disappeared through a door at the far end of the space, noticing the panels either side of the door frame –security cards required. Nothing he couldn't handle. One lone guard lingered in the space – Snake assumed the majority of security was with the esteemed guest. The man, evidently tall and well-built, began to pace the raised tier, before coming down the small steps and heading down past the cars, towards Snake.

He acted like lightning. Sweeping his leg out, he tripped the sentry and grabbed him around the neck as he fell; before he had time to cry out, the man was caught in a vice like grip, with Snake's M9 at his back.

"Where is Nethanel Doe?", Snake growled in the man's ear.

"_Ne tirez pas!"_

The sentry tried to turn, but Snake held his shoulder, and pushed the barrel of his gun further into the man's spine.

"_WHERE IS NETHANEL DOE?"_

"_Je ne comprend pas_!"

_Snake, you fool._

"_Où a-t-on caché le corps de Nathaniel Doe_?", he spat menacingly into the guard's ear.

"_Le corps_?"

The man grunted defiantly, and muttered something under his breath that sounded to Snake like 'American dog'. Snake moved the gun upwards, pressing the barrel in a more sensitive spot between the Frenchman's shoulder blades, causing him to hiss violently.

"_On le trouve dans la morgue dessous du bâtiment à l'extérieur…"_

The sentry spat on the floor next to Snake's feet.

_Basement of the outer building? _

With a confident chop to the neck with his free hand, Snake rendered the man unconscious. He took everything the man had that could be of use, making sure to pry the security card from around his neck, and then dragged the body behind a parked vehicle so it was out of sight. Now totally alone, Snake scanned the area and proceeded towards the large doorway through which the entourage had disappeared. With no radar, and no idea of the layout of the building, Snake hesitated by the door; for all he knew, that conglomerate of armed guards could still be stood a few paces behind it. It would make taking the security pass a waste, but the legendary soldier had another plan.

Climbing up a small pile of crates, he pushed his body into a metal opening in the wall. The metal of the air duct rang as he clambered inside, and began to pull himself along the passageway with his elbows. Memories of the Shadow Moses incident reappeared in his mind – he became convinced that he could see rats darting about in the distance, the hollowed voice of 'Master Miller' echoing around the darkness. Snake considered it a miracle that he wasn't particularly claustrophobic by now. After what seemed like an age in the dark, Snake came to grate below him, and heard voices echoing up into the duct. Staring down, he could see below him a raise metal walkway, and below that the floor of another warehouse, where the tops of heads were clearly visible. If he dropped down immediately they would undoubtedly hear him, so he waited, listening to the man talking in indiscernible English as he paced slowly with his guards along the warehouse. When Snake was sure he was out of earshot, he dropped down, and lay on the metal floor, pulling himself along and watching the group through the railways. He'd barely had time to move when he heard a sudden hissing in his ear, and stopped.

_The codec?_

A voice was breaking through the white noise.

"Sn…..you…er?"

"Octacon?!"

The crackling began to fade.

"Snake do you read me?"

Hearing Hal's voice relaxed him instantly.

"Loud and clear…"

His partner let out a sigh of relief.

"Excellent. So what's the news?"

Snake grunted.

"The news? French people are rude."

"C'mon Snake," Hal chastised, "You're infiltrating a secret facility, armed, with the intention of stealing a dead body. What did you expect? Young boys with baguettes singing _Frère Jacques?"_

"That would've been nice."

Snake kept his eyes glued to the group below, and noticed that they'd turned, and were heading towards the door directly below him.

"So I take it you're already inside then?"

"Matter of fact I am, no thanks to you."

"Hey!" cried Otacon, sounding overly offended, "We had a long journey! And us eggheads have our uses – Mei Ling's working on your radar right now, should be up and running in no time!"

Snake was relieved to hear it.

"So where do you think the body might be?" Hal chirped, "I'm looking at some images right now, there's an outer building that looks like it could be a morgue…."

"Yeah, I held up a guard and he told me something about that."

"Well as soon as the radar's running we can find you a safe route there, for now, just keep a low profile and try not to – "

"Otacon, wait!"

The scientist paused briefly, waiting for his partner to talk, but Snake said nothing. Temptation eventually forced Hal to break the silence.

"What is it, Snake?"

The soldier didn't reply. He was staring down at the face of the man, the esteemed guest.

"It…can't…be…."

"Snake, what's happened?"

"There's a man here, I just got a look at his face…."

"And? Who is it?"

Snake paused, and took a double take, just to be sure.

"Otacon, it's…George Sears…"

"What?" Hal was audibly taken aback, "George Sears? Are you sure?"

Snake looked to the face of the man again, watching avidly as he walked beneath him, and through the doorway. He recognized the gait and frame of the man, as well as the husky American accent that floated into the rafters.

"That was him."

Snake had no idea what it meant.

"That's the former President of the United States…"


End file.
